My fat support group meeting was today.  No, the group is not helping guys n gals to stay fat; it is a weight (ooops!), I mean mass-loss (see my 1-29-10 blog, “Being Fat”) support group.  I gotta lose mass: there’s too much of me in me!

Today, once again I had to face that dreaded, weekly scale.  The scale is the great “Tell-the-Truth-Fatty” machine.

Last night, I prepared supper with that scale in mind.  I ate light food and not so much as I might have taken in.  Cooked lots of veggies – those microwave under six minutes steamer goodies – fast and easy to eat (well, for a fatty, most things are easy to eat, and eat, and keep on eating).  On the way home from work, after mailing some tangerine gift packages, I bought some baked chicken from the supermarket deli (I really wanted to buy a buttery-frosted cinnamon roll – it was on sale, too!  But I didn’t).  So, supper was chicken and corn and broccoli.  Not bad choices.  Made it a point not to snack all last evening either.  Breakfast this morning was its usual oatmeal and lunch was leftover supper.

I dressed in a light shirt – searched with my fingers through the wardrobe for the thinnest material to wear.  Thought about not wearing any socks, but my feet would be a sewer by the time I stood on that dratted scale; found some thin, thin ones, though.

After my light (and very healthy) lunch at work, I purposefully drank less water (Good gosh!  Do you realize that my water bottle has three-quarters of a pound of water in it!  That’s not acceptable just hours before the scale).  Didn’t eat my mid-afternoon snack, either.  “Starved it out,” one might say.

Got to my fatty meeting only slightly late and on the way inside to the meeting room (and the scale), I emptied (no, I didn’t vomit in their parking lot) my pants pockets stuffing everything into my jacket’s zip pockets.  Paid my weekly dues and went to the soft chair to sit and bend over as best I could to untie my shoes.

Ping!  There went my belly-button button skipping across the hard linoleum floor!  OMG!  (Oh My God!)  I looked up!  No one paid any attention!  Well of course they didn’t.  They know all about popping buttons.  I was thankful: at work, popping a shirt button would have resulted in a very embarrassing ridicule session.  People can be merciless.

Was my popped button an omen?  Did I gain mass this week?  With a struggle and sad countenance, I finally got the shoes off.  I padded over to the scale on “little cat feet” and smiled warmly at the lady scale reader and stepped gingerly up onto it.  We fatties know to step lightly up onto things – one time I jumped on a floor and my foot went through it!  On another occasion, I put a hole in the ceiling!  (No, I wasn’t walking up above; I was in the attic crawl space and took a mis-step).

I thought of keeping a thumb on the counter top to lessen the scale’s gauge, as kind of a reverse “butcher’s trick” to boost sales income.  You know the story: when you used to go to the market and buy freshly-ground hamburger from the meat case and the butcher would scoop it out with his silvery metal spoon from the stack and slap it up onto white glossy butcher paper on the scale and then as he weighed it out he would keep his thumb on the scale?  Our small-town butcher’s name was Leroy, but that’s a future good story.

Hmm, what sort of “remark” might the scale-reader lady make if I did keep my thumb on top of the counter as I weighed in?  Would she allow this to happen?  No.  What might she say?

“Oh, I couldn’t help but notice, Mr. SMJ, that you chew your nails?  That thumb there is especially worn.”

Or, if I was a female, “Say, that’s a spicy brand of nail polish you’ve got!  Steppin’ out tonight, Ms. SMJ?”

Or, “Nice choice, SMJ!  It matches your shoes” (which are setting in plain view over there on the floor by that fatty chair with my XXXL jacket and its bulging pockets).

I doubt she would say what’s really on her mind, “Hey, Fat Guy!  Get your blubbery oversized brutalized thumb off the counter.  You think we don’t know all the tricks?  Stand up straight and take your medicine!  Man up, Clod Butt!”

I think she is polite, though, and, rather than say anything, she would kindly reach over and gently tap my thumb with her index finger, smiling her “no no warning” as she looked me square in the eyes.

Down one kilogram!  Yes, it’s time to use those silly American measuring units!  Down two point two pounds!  Yes: -2.2!  Those veggies work!

As I smilingly returned to my shoes and tried my best to pick up that shirt button (I had to lick my thumb to pinch it off the polished tile), I looked around the meeting room.  Attendance was down.  Well, we are in February and the New Years Mass Losers have been stopped by the reality of how hard it is to eat right.

Our Lady Leader (Oh!  I and two other guys were the only males present; we were scattered about the room, slumped down in our chairs) talked about how most of our friends “just don’t get it.”  Choosing whether or not to eat that chocolate-covered, lemon-pudding filled donut is not difficult for most people.  Non-fat people don’t realize the struggle we “wanna lose weight big people” have with this “simple” decision; they can pack a few donuts down and never see any back splash (fat build up on their butts and hips).

“Since they don’t get it, they are not your best sources of advice when you are struggling with keeping to your weight-loss program,” our Leader Lady said.

“We here in this room understand,” she reminded us [paraphrased].  “We here know how hard it is, what thoughts run through our mind as we look at that tray of donuts.  How the saliva runs, how the will weakens, how easily our old habits can return.  How easily and quickly we can rationalize wolfing down a pastry and going for another: ‘Let me just smell the cake, lick the frosting, taste the pudding…’  The second one is suddenly crammed into our mouth before we can even think ‘No!’ to the third.”

“Fellow wanna-be thinners, we lose weight by learning to change our eating habits.  We must make good food choices.  Learn to eat well.  We here in this room are here to help each other.  When we get that desire to eat just to eat, we can help each other.  We understand how hard it is to make good eating choices.  We need to celebrate each other as we achieve our weight-reduction goals, whether those goals are 80 pounds or 8 pounds.  So, right now let’s celebrate those of us who have lost the first 5 pounds on our way to our health and better-living goal!”

Maybe in a week or two, I’ll be celebrated!  I’m down 8 and that’s a good thing.

I am a tad less massive and hugely encouraged “South of Moose Jaw”

smj

Just posted the prologue for Old Habits!! I’m so happy I finally finished it. It’s not even that long but I have been putting it off for some time now. Now that that is out of the way I can start editing what I have already written (I wrote the prologue last, go figure, but it was because I didn’t know I was going to want one). Here is the link although it is in my little blog roll over there under books along with the Bird Slayer book: Old Habits

So keep a look out for new posts of Bird Slayer and Hold Habits.

Boxes still filled the garage despite the fact that they had moved in a little over a year ago. It was plenty big enough for one car and a refrigerator but along the walls there were cardboard cubes full of holiday decorations and old belongs Joann chose to keep from her childhood. Tyler had a box or two with a trophy and some sports equipment but not as much as Joann. She didn’t want to forget her past. Even the bad times; forgetting was Joann’s biggest fear.

Today was laundry day and trash day. It was the day that everyone was out of the house except for Joann. She started by washing the clothes and then putting away the dishes. That morning she woke up extra early for some reason unknown to her and made Charlie some breakfast and then a lunch. Tyler had already left with Charlie. It was Monday so that meant that Tyler had to go to work and he brought Charlie to daycare.

Joann took the trash out of the kitchen and carried it through the garage to go in the trashcan outside. As a young girl she would always run as fast as she could away from the trash as she closed the lid so that she wouldn’t smell the week-old garbage stained to the black plastic. To this day Joann would run away from the stench. Today, however, she wasn’t paying much attention and tripped over one of the boxes that lined the garage walls.

Looking to see what she had stubbed her toe on she spotted dust particles floating in the air above a cardboard box. Written on the box in black sharpie were the words Photo Albums. She sat up, crossing her legs, and wiped off the dust to open the box. Inside there were three photo albums and two pictures in frames. Joann pulled one of the photos out of the box. It was a picture of her sister and her old friends from high school. She laughed at the memory it brought to her attention.

The picture was taken on her 21st birthday. They had thrown her a surprise party, which ended up being a wild goose chase. Margaret, Joann’s friend, was supposed to drive her to the restaurant where everyone would be gathered and surprise her with a big “Happy Birthday” greeting. It turned out that Margaret had the directions to the first restaurant they had decided on.

Joann and Margaret drove around town for an hour and a half before finally their friends called Margaret to see where the hell they were. Joann put the pieces together and figured it out before they got there but still acted surprised. Margaret was upset, though, that she ruined the surprise. She said that is was supposed to be a birthday to remember. Joann laughed again. Margaret had no idea how memorable it actually was. To that day Joann could still remember the first drink she ordered. A Rum ‘n Coke.

Taking out the second picture, a piece of paper fell to her lap. She recognized it immediately. It was the letter her mother gave her when she went off to college. She had secretly slipped it into her suitcase so that Joann would find it when she unpacked. It read:

Dear my Joann,

So proud of you, love,
Mom

Tears filled Joann’s eyes. She remembered feeling homesick the minute she got on the plane. The feeling of, “I’m really doing it. I’m really leaving home.” Struck her as reality was setting in. As she was unpacking her bags in her new room both tears of excitement and sorrow were welling up in her eyes. When that letter fell out of her shirt she thought that it couldn’t have appeared at a more perfect time. She called her mother that night to tell her that she loved her and she missed her already.

Joann looked at the picture in her hand. It was her graduation picture.

She felt the sudden urge to call her mother. All these emotions from the past coming up so suddenly. She put the picture back in the box and ran inside with the letter. When she got to the kitchen she picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. It went to voicemail. She decided to leave a short message just saying “hello” and “I miss you”. She hadn’t talked to her mother in about four months.

Joann and her mother had a good relationship but after Joann went off to college and got married, there was less time to see each other. After Charlie was born Joann made it a point to go and visit her mother so that Charlie would know his grandmother and aunt. Then Joann started writing again and Tyler was going to work and there was no time. Charlotte would often call to see if she could get Joann to come and visit her but their lives were never in sync. She would end up going to Chicago and visiting with Charlie and Tyler and of course, Joann.

The phone rang and Joann answered it immediately, without looking at the caller ID, “Hello?” There was a male voice on the other end, “Hey honey, is everything all right? You sound like you were crying.”
“Oh, Tyler, I’m fine. I was just remembering some sad things. I think I want to take a trip to see my mom.”
“Really? When?”
“Maybe next week.”
“That sounds good but I am going to be working with a client all month. I wish I could go. You can just send my love.”
“Oh right. I’m sure you are just torn up about it.” Joann rolled her eyes, “I know that you don’t really like my mother.”
“It’s not me! She’s the one that doesn’t like me! You know that she is always giving me that look.”
“What look?”
“That look of, ‘You stole my daughter away.’”
“Oh please. She does not give you a look. She is just proud.”
“Of what?”
“Her.” Joann walked to the breakfast table and sat down with a laugh. “She will be sad that you can’t come.”
“I think she will live.”
“But I’ll be sad that you can’t come.” Joann could here the smile on his face. “You see me everyday. You can bring Charlie and just have girls week… except for Charlie.” Joann shook her head, “Okay, well I am waiting for her to call me back. So, I’ll let you go, oh wait, you called me. What were you calling about?”
“I was just calling to say ‘hi’ and ‘I love you.’”
“Okay, I love you too. Do you want to have lunch this afternoon or do you have to meet with your client?”
“I can tell him that I have something more important to attend to.”
“Well not if you can’t. I was just wondering.”
“Honey, I would much rather be with you. Trust me, it’s fine.” Joann laughed. She knew that he was going to say something along those lines. “Okay then I’ll just pick you up around twelve thirty. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine. See you then, bye.” Joann hung up with a bye and sat at the table for a while longer while she thought about what she was going to say to her mother when she called her back. There was still laundry to be done and she needed to close the garage door. Joann walked back into the garage and closed the door. There was a basket of clothes on the ground that had to be put in the washer.

She transferred the wet clothes that were in the washer to the dryer and then replaced them with the dirty clothes that were in the basket. There was a loud noise as she pressed the button to start both the machines. Joann was unaware of the phone ringing in the kitchen. She took the clothes that were hanging on the clothes rack and put them in the basket so she could bring them inside and fold them.

When she walked into the house again she heard the phone ring halfway and then stop. The answering machine picked it up. It was her mother. Joann dropped the basket in her hands and rushed to the phone. She picked it up, “Hello!” On the other end her mother was silent for a second and then answered, “Joann?”
“Yes!”
“Did you call?”
“Yes! I wanted to see if Charlie and I could come over next week.”
“Sure! You can come over tomorrow if you want. Do you want me to make the arrangements? I can get started on your tickets online.”
“No, that’s okay. I can do it. Are you sure tomorrow will be okay?”
“Of course. I’m not doing anything and I never get to see you anyway. Tyler isn’t coming?”
“He has a client keeping him busy this month.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“I know, he really wanted to see you.” Joann was rolling her eyes in her head. Her mother knew, too, that that wasn’t true but she didn’t say anything about it. “You can always come another time when he can come.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Okay then. I will plan to have you here for tomorrow then.”

This article changed my life.

Flo doesn’t follow blogs, but I talk to her and process with her a lot of the more interesting stuff. And I talked about that with her, saying that was something revelatory for me. It’s something that I’ve truly taken to heart, and it has dramatically improved our sex life. 

I’ve spent most of my sexual life ignoring my desire. Z was a cross dresser, but any gender bending from my side was not acceptable. A lot of people who’ve heard this that it seems unfair, but it isn’t. He took a risk telling me he was a cross dresser; it would have been well within my rights to end the relationship at that point for that reason. Lots of people really aren’t into that, but he was lucky; I was. He, however, likes feminine girls. I kept my hair long for him, I wore skirts and dresses and heels. In exchange, I got cover. He was really not interested in masculine-looking girls. Expressing myself in that manner around him wasn’t something he could accept, so I kept it to myself.

All this makes it hard to follow through with what I want, and what Flo wants, too.

I take a particular pleasure in being the sexual aggressor, though it can be hard to act upon for fears of presumption, or of crossing my PIC’s sexual boundaries. I treat her with the same sensitivity, the same tentativeness that I approach my own sexuality with, even when she’s made it explicit how she wants to be treated and touched. Because I really couldn’t trust what Flo was saying she wanted and as a result didn’t trust that she would stop me if I did something she didn’t like, and didn’t feel like I was empowered to do things I’ve always wanted to, that she’s asked for, because I only knew that I would stop the second she said no. I was so ready to stop on a dime that I couldn’t start rolling.

So I decided to stop requiring constant validation that I was doing what she wanted, because it was so insistent it was taking me out of the moment. Things rapidly changed. We were all ready having great sex, but it became fantastic. And then Flo started talking about what she wanted, really talking. And so did I. And recently it developed into a really great dynamic.

Generally Flo occupies a receptive role during sex. We’ve spoken about why she tends to say that she’s most interested in bottoming even when this might not be true. So we’ve been uncovering her toppy, assertive side more. Before when we’ve tried, she tended to copy my style of straight-up dominance and submission. Which is ok, but I really have to be in a subby mood, which is rare. Truthfully my style of sub is snotty and aggressive in itself, which takes someone willing to be physically controlling and verbally humiliating to me.  This time, that happened because she slapped me (playfully) for something. So I commented that I wished she’d do that in bed, and did whatever she slapped me for again, and it escalated from there. It was wonderful.
She commented later that she’s really beginning to trust in our method of keeping things safe (three light taps to slow down, three good hits to put on the emergency brakes and check in immediately). Before, we had a safe-word that neither of us felt really secure in, because things can get out of hand in an instant. The taps are more instinctual without being something that would go unnoticed or accidentally unheeded.

I think that she feels, we both feel, more trusting at this point in this relationship than either of us has previously. Once I, personally, silently, decided to accept her yesses at face value, both our sex lives improved exponentially. She saw, didn’t just hear my trust in her, and so she has begun to trust me in the same way. For a change, this worked without the copious words that have so far made up the foundation of our trust. Now all that’s left to say is ”wow, that was great!”

It’s true what they say, “Old habits die hard.” Recently, while listening to the song “Wish Liszt (Toy Shop Madness)” by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, an old feeling arose. It was something that I haven’t felt in a long time, but it surged up with such force, that it couldn’t be denied. I had the desire to play the piano again. As soon as I could, I looked up Franz Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2″ to find sheet music, since that song is what “Wish Liszt” is based off of. Little did I know that it was nineteen pages long, and it was hardly worth printing for just one small part. So I decided to go to another song that I have played before. As a matter of fact, it’s been so long that I’ve played the song that I was afraid that I wouldn’t be up to snuff, because, you see, I haven’t played that song since long before my piano hiatus. It’s probably the most overplayed song for the piano that will still make me cringe if played at a recital (unless it’s played perfectly). Despite that, though, it is still a beautiful song. That’s right, I thought that my return to the piano would be best accompanied by Beethoven’s Für Elise.

Going through the motions but lacking any kind of sensation. Everything tasteless. Disappointment acknowledged but not felt. The heart aches. Not wanting to play this out in view of open eyes you withdraw.

In these moments you come to realise who holds you.  Those whose arms wrap around you instinctively to hold you together before you fall apart. That one who tries to make you laugh. Wrong words chosen, but a slight twitch of your lips shows you that could you smile, you would. And them, the one you turned to, to take you out of your head. Seeming at first to care but then always their truer nature returns. This you knew. It is why you go to them.

The words unbelievable. Having to remind yourself that this is how you placed the pieces. Each one fulfilling the role assigned. You can’t be angry, only you are. Growing resentment that they would choose now to do this. Had the roles been reversed with a fraction of the relevance this behaviour would not be tolerated from you. Never able to see as you do. Oddly thankful that this you can feel. This gives you something other to think about. This was the reason why you made that choice again. Perfectly selfish, always guaranteed that in their presence nothing you feel matters. Your dysfunction showing. The tactic does not work.

Your thoughts undistracted. They always remembered your name. They always cared to ask how you were. Their voice familiar on the other end of the phone, you couldn’t help but smile when you answered. It feels heavy. The memory of that last time. You shared a meal in their home. They were supposed to be getting better. They wouldn’t let you hug them. Too much affection, you knowing your arms would embrace them too tightly. Them kindly insisting that it was only because they didn’t want you to become ill. Not even a kiss goodbye. Just wave.

The miles too many to travel I stay on my side of the ocean. Too affected by a sadness that should not be so overwhelming. Their loss, mine. I will miss their kindness. I will miss their laughter. I will miss their smile.

~ R.I.P. Auntie Norte ~

As always it is up to us as individuals to make the very best that we can out of any given situation. Today, for example, I have barely left the bed as filled with a rotten cold. It’s hurting when I breath, my head aches and the room continues to spin which is making me rather sick! Apart from that I’m dandy!!

Seriously though, whereas my body may have taken a not so well earned rest, I can tell you my mind hasn’t stopped plotting and planning. I started off on YouTube, looking up clips from Biggest Loser USA, just mindlessly watching the contestants getting the usual amusing ear bashing from both trainers. So here is the thing, the more I watched, the more I felt an overwhelming renewed sense of motivation to get up and fight. Welcome back the eye of the tiger (Rocky theme here I come!).

Let you in on a little secret, 2010 for me so far, is almost going like a dream. So far I have lost 10lbs in weight to which I am very proud of. I am also very aware that my initial ‘enthusiasm’ was turning more into ‘complatency’ which for me, is never a good thing. It of course means that I am in danger of ’slipping’ into old habits, and that my dear, will never happen.

So with a renewed sense of inspiration, I have finally drawn up my weekly diet & exercise ‘routine’ – which naturally includes me getting up at 6am and proceeding with approximately 1hr - 1hr 30mins of exercise……..that is every morning. Why oh why have I decided to undertake this torture? Because A) I am sadistic and want to see me really suffer B) on the occasions I have done this I have felt euphoric (as well as a little tired!!) afterwards and finally C) because I hate staying in bed of a morning! Mentally I am a ‘wake up, jump out of bed got to start the day’ kind of girl, and the more I lay in, the worse mentally I am.

With this ‘not so new’ regime, what do I hope to achieve? Well for one thing I am expecting to come back here May 1st (oh yes, I have worked out the figures that precisely!) I will my ‘ideal weight’. That is about 4 1/2 months worth of hard work, and my reward? Being able to wear evening gowns and other ‘posh’ clothes with pride when we embark upon the holiday I have dreamed about for well over a decade. Oh, and on that holiday I want LOTS of photographs of me, looking at my best, actually looking like I am enjoying myself! Photos I really don’t cringe at when reviewing!

Ah, but all that is 10 months away, I have to lose the weight, then re stock the wardrobe by then!

Their face everywhere. Now I choose to see. Too long that part of me denied, never gone. The shadow cast not them, but me. I realise that now. In the darkness where I stood and smiled at the light I know that this is what I have chosen.

That happiness, that joy, so many smiles. It could never be sustained. I was never built that way. Though surrounded, that’s not how I know how to live. Blinded. The brilliance too much for me.

With new words still lost to me and the old too hard to say I let myself be found. Unable to reconcile those parts of me alone but knowing I need both. To value what it is I have, to know the consequence should I let it go, I need to be reminded how many times I have lost.

I returned to where I knew I would be asked the questions for which I did not have the answers they wanted to hear. I heard the apology given without the meaning needed behind it. Unknown that the word that always fell so easily from their lips contained a promise to do better. A promise that could never be kept without the knowledge behind it.

Decision made. My life so very full. Left off-balance when the scales were tipped too far. I can no longer exist in extremes. The newly reclaimed piece needing to find its place without being forced. The picture incomplete without it. Slowly. Tentative placement. I need it to be whole.

When no one else was looking I knew I would go back. When no one else was looking I found myself finally hearing the words. When no one else was looking, I couldn’t be anyone but me.

I found myself driving to Raleigh on Saturday and today, due to a minor shoulder injury which I’m having treated.  To get to where I’m going, I have to drive past the Lake Boone Trail exit on 440.  I almost took the exit this morning – I had to actually correct the direction my car was headed, as I had unconsciously slid over and was headed into the exit lane.

You see, I used to live off that exit … fifteen years ago.  Old habits do, in fact, die hard.

I haven’t seen anyone else doing it in the blogs I read, so I thought I’d post some of my goals for the new year. 2009 swept me up; it was such an exhiliarating, change-filled year for me, and I plan on continuing that trend in a more purposeful manner. In 2009 I was jolted out of a rut that had grown so deep and narrow that I had given up hope of ever climbing out, so this year I plan to change whatever I need to that will let me make the path that is best for me.

This year I will:

• Quit putting it all off: I’ve gotten into a bad habit. I don’t know how it started, but it is ending now. I keep saying things like “I’m going to do this!”, rapidly followed by “once this happens. And once I live here. And after I wait for this person to do this or finish that. But only if these things fall into place just so, and once I do those other things I’ve been putting off”. Not anymore. I’ve all ready proven to myself that this strategy leaves me unhappy, and that, if I make the effort to do things, good things happen.
• Become a better butch: A broad category. Get rid of things that no longer work for me, things that cause me guilt and self-doubt. Stop doing things that are self-harming. Read more, research more, write more, think more, obsess less. Get better at handling anger. Practise chivalry more consistently, toward everyone.
• Find out what I want from life: I’m graduating. And I’m not going to work at bit-part jobs my whole life. I want to volunteer at something I’m passionate about (Volunteer firefighter? Something with the Youth Project?), and work at something I love (Cooking? Editing? Writing? Art? Physical work of some sort?). I want to keep learning. I want to read. I want to write. I want to make art, perform, sing, dance, play. How can I make this work for me?
• Work at my relationship with my family: I feel so much closer to my mother, yet I fear that my relationship with my dad has suffered damage, and I will not let that damage become irreparable. I think I make my younger sister nervous, and I haven’t had a chance to tell my brother. I want to be honest with my extended family too, a task that feels more urgent now that I’ve lost the chance to be out to my grandparents, with the loss of my grandfather just before the holidays.
• Reconnect with and make new friends: Over these past few years, I’ve lost just about all my closest friends to distance, and this spring I will lose two more. Others I’ve simply disconnected with. So, I’m going to go out. I’m going to do things and see people and make friends. Good ones. Fun ones. Active ones. And this is where that first resolution will come in handy, even as I type the “buts”, and “afters” and “onces” are starting to intrude.
• Move out: It’s time. I’ll be graduated, I need my own space. My dad’s overbearing parenting is becoming unbearable, and it is damaging our relationship. I can handle it better if I’m not living there, not forced to be dependent on him, and not so isolated from rest of my life.
• Improve my diet: It’s not that bad now, but it’s not much in my control. I want to eat more locally, more organic, less meat. I’m planning on sharing an apartment with Flo and we are considering a gluten-free diet that might have an effect on her health. I’m excited!
• Improve my health: Feeling strong and capable has always been incredibly important to me, and it’s something that has gotten away from me in the past few years. I’m planning to move downtown so that it will be easier to bike all year round, and easier to motivate myself to do it. I want to get back in shape. I’m not out of shape, but I used to be way better. We’ll be nearer to the boxing gym that captured my imagination since it first opened, and a hot femme friend is attending right now and loves it. Remembering to do my situps and pushups and so-on half the time isn’t cutting it, so that’s gotta change, if nothing else. And that’s something I can start now.
• Waste less: I like to think I waste only a little. But this year, I don’t want to throw out any food. I don’t want to borrow my parent’s car just because it’s easier than bussing or biking or, God forbid, walking. I don’t want to forget to turn off a light or a power bar, or do things that I might have done “just this one time” because I’m lazy or just want to have fun. That’s no excuse, really. I want to buy food that grows close to home, buy things that don’t come in packages, buy as little as possible. I want to take the “reduce” and “reuse” in “reduce, reuse and recycle” to heart. I want to make more–more food, more clothes, more repairs. All things I can do, all things I like to do, I just don’t. Because buying or tossing is easier and takes less time. This means more planning ahead, particularly in the food department, and less spending on impulse. Which I can’t help but think will be good for my bottom line.
• Strengthen my relationship with Flo: We have some really big, exciting things planned, including celebrating our first anniversary at the summit of a mountain somewhere in Europe. And we’ve got a really good thing going, so I’m going to do my part in making sure we keep this trend. And, trust me, we’ve got lots of things to work on that go beyond our day-to-day relationship. Included in this is many of the other goals I’ve mentioned, particularly becoming a better butch, improving my diet and physical health, and deciding what I want from life, so that this and another goal, moving out, go more smoothly and happily. And something fun for last:
• Get my ear pierced: It’s something I’ve considered for a little while now; a more permanent, physical change, to commemorate the amazing year of change I’ve had. I’ve never had piercings before; I’m excited! This should be happening around the beginning of next month at the same time as a friend of mine gets another tattoo (*sigh*, maybe next year…).

So there it is folks. I think these things, listed in no particular order and unremarkable though they may seem, will set me firmly on that proper course. What are your hopes for 2010? What are you going to strive to change? What will you work to maintain?

by Aggi Stevenson

 I woke up fat again this morning. What went wrong last year?  What did I do wrong? I started thinking about the things I shouldn’t have done last year.  I made a list:

Twelve  Things I Shouldn’t Have Done Last Year

January 2009-TOPPING THE LIST would have to be when I woke up on New Year’s day 2009 and had the bright idea of  thinking I could actually embarrass myself  into losing weight.

I shouldn’t have posted my real weight online for all the world to see. I shouldn’t have set such a grand goal for myself, to lose 50 pounds in a year. On paper, that is only 4.16 pounds a month. Who couldn’t do that?  That’s a little more than a pound a week. That should be easy. I shouldn’t have thought that if I had realistically drawn upon my dieting experience of 2008.

The year before, I also woke up on New Year’s day with personal renewal on my mind. With the gusto of a hound dog, I set the same goal for 2008. By December 31, I had lost a total of 5 measly pounds … or 6 ounces a month…or 1.5 ounces per week…or 1/5 of an ounce per day. Not exactly burning up the scales.

Why I thought I could go from losing 5 pounds a year to losing 50 pounds a year, I do not know. A year seems like such a long time but believe me…It flies by!

February 2009 -THE TREADMILL would have to be one of the greatest areas of deception. I shouldn’t have put so much faith in that thing. Thinking as long as I spent 30 minutes on the treadmill two, three and sometimes 4 times a week, I would burn up all the extra calories consumed that week. I think I purchased it about September of 2008, when I could well see I was slipping in my goal to lose 50 pounds. I used it a few times but it was not the fun toy I thought it would be. However, in 2009, I used it a lot more. Much, much more. It just didn’t work the miracle I needed to get the weight off. Guess it’s too late to get a refund.

March 2009-TIME would have to be another thing I shouldn’t have taken for granted. After witnessing 2008 whiz by like a rocket, I shouldn’t have thought I had plenty of time.

April 2009-RESTAURANTS shouldn’t have been such a big part of my life in 2009. I shouldn’t have thought (lied to myself) that restaurant food was probably prepared like you would at home. Restaurants are interested in appeal and flavor. Little sprigs of this and swirls of that on the plate are to make you think you are someone special and this meal is something special too. Since I never met a restaurant I didn’t like, I ate out too much.  Somewhere along the line I became President of the Clean Plate Club and thought I had to eat every sprig and swirl of it.

In defense of Wendy’s (my favorite little burger, Jr. Bacon cheeseburger) Generations (best Club ever) Theo’s (my favorite burger that comes with homemade chips) Fairfield Inn (favorite breakfast place) Cracker Barrel (best meatloaf dinner…I can’t eat meatloaf anywhere else) Shiki (favorite local Japanese, Hibachi  Chicken…umm) La Fuente Mexican (favorite Chicken fajitas) Bob Evans (best turkey and dressing meal on the planet) Olive Garden ( Italian dressing to die for…soup and salad…you would think would be low calorie…you would be wrong) Macaroni Grill (great Salmon…great everything) Kanpei (Winston-Salem Japanese…all time favorite…best house dressing and mustard sauce…everything is great) Outback (blooming onion is King) Chick-Fil-A (favorite fast food…best chicken sandwich anywhere) Steak houses, drive thrus…

Sorry. I got carried away! What I meant to say was, in defense of the restaurants I go to, they probably do have healthy alternatives but I am a creature of habit. I already know what I want before I go inside and rarely need a menu. I shouldn’t have entered their doors so often. 

May 2009- ALLI shouldn’t have been part of an attempt to jump-start my diet that was already falling by the wayside. I don’t know about you but I don’t really enjoy involuntary bowel movements much. On my way to a favorite restaurant, Alli kicked in and took over my body without warning. I could have been anywhere, with anyone, doing anything and it wouldn’t have made any difference. Thank God I was alone and still in my car. I turned around and came home. Like there was anything else I could do. That is a crappy product, pun intended, and shouldn’t be trusted as an aid to ones dieting.

June 2009-FRIENDSHIP shouldn’t have anything to do with weight loss. Girls. Come on. Don’t we ever get out of the fifth grade?  I shouldn’t have been naive enough to think all of my friends would be supportive. Unkind remarks and not keeping in touch, shouldn’t have happened. But it did and that’s okay. My real friends are still here and I am still fat. Go figure!

July 2009-THE BIGGEST LOSER shouldn’t be one of my favorite shows. It gives you a false sense of weight loss. If they can lose 500 pounds in 10 weeks, I should be able to lose 50 in a week. Like the last week of December. All I have to do is eat six small meals a day and work out eight hours at a time. Hum… I have plenty of time. It is just July. I don’t have nearly the weight to lose those guys do. If they can do it, I certainly can. I shouldn’t have thought Jillian would involuntarily invade my mind the last week of December like Alli did my body in May.

August 2009-THE BEACH shouldn’t have been in my plans for August. I did feel much smaller though. I was experimenting with wearing sleeveless tops for the first time in 99 years. The beach was great fun. I wore a bathing suit for the first time in ages. Then…I slapped my camera card into the computer and wahla…there I was in printed form in a bathing suit. Mercy. Decided not to post any of those. I shouldn’t have thought my skin would just magically spring back where it used to be at my age. Sheesh. It doesn’t.

September 2009-DENIAL, I shouldn’t have gone into denial. I was losing the battle but still thought I could catch up. I had pieces of note paper everywhere with a meal or two written on it. I no longer had any desire to post anything on my blog about weight loss. I would rather have not talked about it at all.

October 2009-GIVING UP, I shouldn’t have given up. I quit posting online. I still had plenty of notes so I could catch up my blog but it would have been just plain food diary without the personal entries.

November 2009-ACCEPTED DEFEAT I shouldn’t have ignored the weight gain. Ignored the treadmill. Ignored drinking water and most of all, ignored the scales.

December 2009-OLD HABITS, I shouldn’t have become acquainted with an old friend. Old habits were back for the holidays. Remember those chocolate covered peanuts that plagued me through last December. I forsook all chocolate covered peanuts until December 2009. Then it was…Hello friend. We carried on quite an affair during the month of December. Now I am ready to kick them to the curb again.

I shouldn’t admit this but I ended up losing only 13 pounds last year. That is 1.08 pounds a month…or 4 ounces a week…or 1/10 of an ounce a day.

My new goal is to lose 37 pounds this year. I think I’ll stay off the computer while I am doing (attempting) it this time. Not broadcasting my failure to the world. Some cheering me on and others hoping I will fail. However, I do intend to give quarterly updates. Maybe. I will if I am successful. If not. You won’t be hearing about weight loss from me. How many years will it take to lose 50 pounds?

These prolific comments on the New Year are sure to make you think, chuckle and realize that everyday is a new beginning. What opportunities lay outside your window today?

New Year’s Day: Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual. ~Mark Twain

Glory to God in highest heaven,
Who unto man His Son hath given;
While angels sing with tender mirth,
A glad new year to all the earth.
~Martin Luther

Youth is when you’re allowed to stay up late on New Year’s Eve. Middle age is when you’re forced to. ~Bill Vaughn

Many people look forward to the New Year for a new start on old habits. ~Author Unknown

Yesterday, everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink and swore his last oath. Today, we are a pious and exemplary community. Thirty days from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds and gone to cutting our ancient shortcomings considerably shorter than ever. ~Mark Twain

Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right. ~Oprah Winfrey

Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account. ~Oscar Wilde

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. ~Benjamin Franklin

But can one still make resolutions when one is over forty? I live according to twenty-year-old habits. ~Andre Gide

New Year’s Eve, where auld acquaintance be forgot. Unless, of course, those tests come back positive. ~Jay Leno

We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives… not looking for flaws, but for potential. ~Ellen Goodman

I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me. ~Anaïs Nin

Mary Lee Gannon is a cultural turnaround and leadership expert who went from being a stay-at-home mother with four children to a difficult marriage, divorce, homelessness, and welfare to CEO. Her book “Starting Over – 25 Rules When You’ve Bottomed Out” is available at this link on Amazon.com and details how she went from an earning capacity of $27,000 annually to president and CEO within just a few years. Visit her Web site at www.StartingOverNow.com

Property taxes, diet planning, top ten lists, I think the end of the year and the end of the decade is near.  Yes I can read the calendar I know the calendar says the end of the year is near, so does my check book.  The end of one year, the beginning of the next, a time to shake off the old cobwebs to make room for the new ones we will build this year is now.  We always start the new year with the best of intentions.  I will take better care of myself, I will eat better, I will be nicer, I will not be so afraid.  And for the first week or so we do pretty good.  But old habits are hard to break, and pretty soon we slide back into them. 

Research says it takes 30 make a new habit.  I think it takes a lot longer than that.  Last year Hubby and I started doing push ups and sit ups everyday.  We did a pretty good job for almost a month, then we just sort of stopped.  We almost had a habit in theory.  I think we were too punitive in days we missed.  I am a great believer in starting with 1.  The first day of the year is this Friday, on this Friday I will do one push up and one sit up.  Everyday after that I will add one more to it.  Plus the other types of workouts we decide on.

When I started swimming I went aquajogging for 30 minutes I started swimming laps with one length of the pool.  It seemed like such a long way, and man was it ever!  I was pooped by the time I made it to the end.  The next time I went swimming I swam down and back, one full lap.  It seemed like it took forever.  I added 1 length of the pool each time until I was swimming more than half the time I was there.  So I quit aquajogging entirely and swam laps, now I swim 45 minutes or 1 mile (35 laps) which ever comes last.  So far 1 mile has come last but some day . . . one lap at a time I will swim a mile in less than 45 minutes. 

I have decided to start a page of this blog just for my diet and exercise.  I hope to be able to show progress every week.  I am hoping that plotting my progress on that page will help me develop a new habit.  Army Girl has a new habit, she runs almost everyday.  She has gotten to like her habit so much she even looks for shoes and clothes to wear when she gets home and it is so cold.  Navy Girl is developing a habit, she worried that she would be away from working out for to long while she is home.  She can do my taped shows if she would like and she can swim with me too.  Air Force Girl has no choice, they still make her work out so who knows what habits she will maintain.  We all know of Hubby’s habit/obsession with walking.  Here’s to developing new habits!  Cheers.

Happy thoughts for a happy day.

I hope everyone out there is getting to kick back a little, and gets a few days off at least, no matter your religion or lack there-of.

So, I believe I’ve mentioned that I came out not too long ago. I went from a poor, forced struggle with my expression of femininity to a comfortable and appealing proclamation of my butch identity. Briefly said, I went from a frumpy girl to a hot butch. It’s true–I’ve gotten more positive attention this way, going about my day-to-day life, in the past six months, than I probably had in the previous five years. I finally understand why some people enjoy shopping. I get to dress and act in the way I feel most comfortable, most confident, most capable, and people of all genders respond positively to that (Usually… some time I’ll tell you about Bridgewater). But this confidence has not translated to my dealings with my family. In fact, though my coming-out was fairly privileged (un-religious, generally accepting, family-oriented people who have at least met gay folk before), I feel like my relationship with my family has deteriorated in many respects, in particular between myself and my father. Mind you, he’s taken it worst. And I actually find my relationship with my mother to be closer, better in some respects. Mind you, she took it best. But this is for another post.

My main concern is this: all three of my close family members–mother, father and younger, straight sister–have noticed that I bind. It was something that I did sporadically when I was dating Z, on days I wouldn’t see him, in private, rarely going out of my room. But the day he left me I began binding almost every day. I was using a bandage, all ready well worn by then, and recently, mercifully, blissfully retired. I never realised how much discomfort and pain it put me in on a daily basis, how much I was contentedly putting up with, until the day I got a better binder. (I could go on like this for a while–I just deleted a whole paragraph, I figure I’ll spare you. Those who know understand, those who don’t probably don’t care all that much (; ) My point, once again, is this: I’ve been given verbal notice by each member of my family, on separate occasions, that they notice I bind. I have small breasts anyway, so it was honestly a surprise to me that they noticed at all. I don’t think they understand why I look different, but they’ve noticed. And I just… can’t talk to them about it. I’d love to be able to explain why I dress the way I do, and why my chest looks the way it does and why I’m so happy about it. There are a few reasons I imagine I’m doing it:

1. I’m used to hiding my lesbianism from them–I’ve been doing it in various degrees since I was 14 or so. I’m comfortable leading the double life that I’ve been living. It keeps things simple.
2. It was hard to come out to my family, and my dad has dealt, and is still dealing with it, relatively poorly. This most insistently manifests as agressive invasiveness into my personal life, and makes me unlikely to feel safe in opening up to him.
3. Talking about this sort of thing is difficult, on a personal level, in the first place. I can barely say “female masculinity” out loud. So there’s definitely a confidence issue.
4. I feel like it’s “private”, or at least something I don’t want to explain. I was hoping, honestly, that they’d just never notice, or that they’d be too embarrassed to ask. No such luck on any front. I’d be much more comfortable telling them it’s not their business what I do with my breasts. But that still means talking about it, see problem no. 3.
5. When I have a problem, I research. And there is precious little info on “coming out” as butch, and even then, only to strangers. None on coming out to parents, that’s for sure. It’s like parents disappear from the picture as soon as you come out, minus sporadic and uncomfortable holiday dinners. And that’s certainly not part of my experience. (I see another post coming here–interested?) At least I had a clue of what to expect when I came out as a lesbian.
6. Really, the thought of having to come out, again, is daunting, especially given the lack of advice out there. Particularly since my family has probably never heard the word “butch” and, if they have, there haven’t been any positive connotations. At least they knew about homosexuality from Will & Grace and Steven and Chris and all those Air Canada flight attendants.

So now I’m at a loss. How do I deal with this? Ours is a close-knit, nosey family. These questions won’t go away, neither will the give-away feeling of my binder when they hug me. And I’m not willing to stop binding around them. For whatever reason, it’s more important to me than avoiding the most needling, personal, invasive questions. Even though I’d rather they ask about the health of my cervix than why my chest has inexplicably gone even flatter. Really, internet, what the fuck do I do?

Waiting faithfully for your reply,

Y.

I couldn’t waste any more of my words on you, so I borrowed these.

Do I know you? Have we ever met? You’ve got a smile I could never forget. Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for someone you know.

What’s that you say? Am I losing my mind? That’s just one of the things that I left behind. You must be talking about something that happened a long time ago.

There’s a look in your eyes I’ve seen before. It’s all too familiar but I can’t be sure. I’ve got a memory somewhere that looks a lot like you.

I’m still confused with these feelings inside. I want to reach out and hold you and I want to hide. Tell me, did I really love you or are you someone that I never knew?

If I forgot to remember your name and your face excuse me forgetting. I must have misplaced that part of my life that left all the scars…from the back of my mind, to the bottom of my heart.

Here is a passage from my 2005 Bestseller, “The Translucent Revolution.”

As with every other area of our lives, there is a symbiotic relationship between the depth of our translucence and the way we view otherness. Translucence naturally shifts our habits of relating, without our doing anything about it. We have less to defend as we come to know ourselves as bigger than our own story, and our relating naturally becomes less strategic. As we see the other as myself, even if only in snapshots, we find that compassion occurs effortlessly. We develop more humor about the idiosyncrasies of our personality. We have less investment in laboriously working things out, and a greater willingness to breathe a sigh and return to innocence. The need to change others relaxes, since we are less tied to them as a source of our well-being. All these things can happen more or less spontaneously as by-products of waking up. At the same time, the attention we bring to our habits of relating can deepen and stabilize our expression of translucence. We can always bring more skillful means, more as an art form than as self-improvement, to our relating. We can become more aware of, and tell the truth about, the old habits that have created separation. These old habits run deep, and they will not necessarily die on their own. Our social environment reinforces them. When we are willing to put awakening into the fire of relationship, it will reveal all old habits and allow them to be released. Says Gay Hendricks:

“I think therein lies the difficulty, as well as the awesome beauty, of relationships. The universe is attempting to meet itself in play. When one person meets another, as that space links up with that space again, it pushes to the surface all the little places where we’ve withdrawn from space. Whether it’s being physically beaten, or starved to death, or criticized, or in beating others, those are the places where we’ve withdrawn and crystallized into mass, and then that has to come to the surface.”

The many translucents I interviewed about relating are deeply committed to bringing more awareness, more humor, more practice to every meeting, every day. But this practice is not in the service of making the relationship better; it is in the service of deepening translucence itself. Relationship becomes the most effective tool, better than yoga and meditation and every self-help seminar rolled into one, to free us of all that is not love. Jett Psaris elaborates:

“One can use relationship to develop one’s full humanity. At some point, our seed begins to vibrate, our essence wants to unfold, and if our defenses don’t give way, then our potential remains unrealized and untuned. The motivation begins to shift. There is nothing else that I know of that can as reliably, as methodically, bring us to the places where we are unfolding, and the places where we are trapped in our defense system. So it becomes a path, an awakening to our humanity, to what it is to be fully human: not just spacious but also contracted. To embrace that humanity wholeheartedly, we become vehicles for love and consciousness and for evolution itself.”

This willingness to recognize old habits is no longer merely in the service of improving a specific relationship; it becomes a spiritual discipline that affects our whole life. The old addiction to needing something from another, or needing the other to change, is no longer the primary force driving us. Rather, we can use our relationships, all of them, from those with our parents and children to those with lovers and co-workers, as a practice to deepen the actualization of latent love. Relationship is not an end in itself. If it were, the limits of our vision would cause us to suffer. By noticing the way we answer a question from our young child, or the way we greet our beloved when we first open our eyes in the morning, we are paying attention to the way we relate to all of existence, at the level where it is most tangible and real. We can use relationship as a skillful means to awaken the Current, to allow the Current to flow through the old habits, and in this way to allow more love to ooze into this parched world. If love is not given away, if relationship is not a discipline radically affecting our meetings with everyone, it has all been wasted. The unequivocal commitment to meeting in shared translucence will naturally lead us into a cycle of alternating rapid expansion, as we embrace greater space and contraction, as we feel and release habits of nonlove. Kathlyn Hendricks calls this “carving space”:

“When these barriers would come, it was really carving more space. We would
see over and over again in our relationship, and in thousands of other people’s
lives, that the capacity for having the blood and neurology run that much energy
was limited. We top out the thermostat, then have some very typical personal
themes that look like they are real, but are simply expressions of our own limited
capacity. Now we put a lot of our attention on what will allow us to
increase our capacity so that we can experience more co-creation in space and
less time in the gunk. We put most of our emphasis on that, and only now
and then on the story. We’re not very interested in the story, and do our best
to get other people unfascinated with the story. We’re more interested in what
is happening at the edge of our own spaciousness, especially when coming into
contact with someone we really love. What happens to the energy between us is
very interesting.”

When we enter into relating with the commitment to continuously deepen translucence, we need to know how to be with these periods exposing the story, without getting lost in them. Below we will discuss four potent means of bringing more translucence to our relating.  Making Agreements Translucent relating begins with clear and unequivocal agreements about why we are meeting and how we might dedicate our relating to the deepening of translucence. We may enter into such agreements as friends, as lovers, or even as a community.  We need to make sure that we are all on the same page before we enter into relating as a translucent practice.

When meeting with both couples and individuals in retreats Chameli and I lead to amplify translucent relating, we suggest that agreement can be made in four stages:

1.  Take some time alone, if possible, a few days. Stay with the question, “Why am I alive?” Discover what is most important to you, what you most deeply value. For example, you might discover that you are alive to express and share love, to remain open, no matter what.

2.  Find out where you are naturally committed. For example, you might discover in stage one that intimacy is important to you, and now in stage two, you realize that you are committed to honesty or to listening. We discover where we need to “take a stand,” in order to have a fighting chance to live what we most value.

3.  Discover how you sabotage your commitment. These are the old habits, which a translucent relationship will uncover and eventually dissolve. For example, you might be committed to honesty but find you easily sabotage your commitment by censoring, because you are afraid people will not like you. When you have explored these three questions alone, you can bring them to your beloved, to your family, or even to a group of friends. Take your time to share everything you discovered, and to listen to others’ discoveries too.

4.  Now it is possible to make clear agreements in any relationship, agreements that serve what you most deeply value, that allow you to honor where you are naturally committed, and that can liberate the ways we all sabotage ourselves.

To read more about translucent relationships and translucent living in general, pick up your very own copy of Translucent Revolution today.

Flo and my six-month-iversary is fast approaching, and I’ve been thinking about how I got to where I am now.

There are still those moments where I feel like I’m living an elaborate lie. It’s funny how easy living the way I used to, denying desire and discomfort, can get, when the stakes seem high enough. Old habits are hard to break.

At this time five years ago, I had just started dating my “highschool sweetheart”, Z. A few months later, I would tell him I was “bisexual” to explain away my roving eye, and the exceedingly affectionate relationships I had with some of my female friends. I couldn’t understand why I felt nothing different for him than a deep friendship, a trusting kinship.

Three years later, he was an out-and-proud crossdresser; convincingly and effortlessly beautiful. He was long-legged and doe-eyed, I was protective of someone who didn’t need it. I thought maybe I was pansexual; that the body of the person didn’t matter, that I’d be one of those who was attracted to transfolk for who they were. This I feel is still true, to a degree. I sought out drag queens and kings, worshipped them. The truth  would only claw its way to the surface when I was thoroughly drunk enough to growl my desire roughly into his diamond stud-clad ear and convincingly deny it through my hangover the next morning.

Z was the first person I told I was a lesbian. That was a little over a year ago; our relationship didn’t end until February of this year. Before that, we were disintegrating. He worshipped the ground I walked on, even though I stood a long way off. I treasured him in my own way; he was the last chance I felt I had at maintaining the facade I had expended so much mental energy on. He had enough trouble–financial, mental–that I could ignore my own, even as I was wading through my own deep, debilitating depression, the denial that was eating me from the inside out. We had been fighting–no, not fighting–sensing that the end was near, that I couldn’t return what he had given me, no matter how I tried, how much I wanted to. He felt I didn’t trust him. I could never give myself over to him fully, I kept him at a distance. Maybe he was right. But I couldn’t trust myself, either.

When I first told Z I was bisexual, I was convinced I told him for his titillation, as a game for us to play. I came out to him months before I told my mother, which was a week after I had begun seeing Flo; once I couldn’t deny the realness of it any more. But it was still so hard; I had been hiding for so long that I couldn’t trust my own feelings anymore. I couldn’t believe the pounding of my heart at the sight of her, I wouldn’t accept the release of my muscles at the softness of her skin, hadn’t trusted in what my body knew instinctually.

I was used to being in control; holding all the cards close to my chest. It’s important to me to have power over a situation, to be perfect and knowing, or at least to project that veneer. Everyone was shocked when Z and my relationship ended, even more so when they found out he had ended it. When we broke up, he was jobless, years out of highschool with no prospects, living in a bad neighbourhood and spending all the time we weren’t together high on pot. Yet our relationship seemed so effortless, so friendly, so warm. Everyone assumed I had ended it because, to so many, he was dead weight and I was supposed to be going places.

Old habits are hard to break. I still worry when I’m with her that I won’t be aroused, that next time I see her I’ll have rationalize myself into love with her, that what I feel is just another web of falsehood. I still feel afraid that, years down the road, I’m going to have to explain why I’m marrying a man, or that rediculous phase when I dressed like a boy. But, with her unending support and compassion, her always-open ear and her willingness to bear her own soul to me, I have grown immeasurably. She sees in me a confidence that I had never felt so deeply before I met her. I’m learning to trust, to listen, to loosen the protective shroud. I’m learning to hide less and, in turn, to fear less.

Old habits may be hard, but I will break them. She has given me the strength.

I haven’t been counting, yet some part of me has. Or perhaps life still likes to laugh at my expense sometimes, maybe not laugh. Life takes these opportunities to remind me how far I’ve come. Only I’ve been here before. That’s what I’m reminded of. All these days where I’ve managed to stop myself from looking back, I find myself unable to resist and I count the days and I realise. 6, 8, 12.

I remember how high those walls had been built, fortified with every past hurt, still you broke through. I allowed you through. I dropped the gate and had no one else to blame for what followed. Except perhaps you, you were always as guilty a party. I let you in, yes, but you’re the one that chose to destroy.

I see it now and I wonder why I ever thought it could work again, I wouldn’t allow myself to laugh. You weren’t allowed to know that anything you said or did could ever make me smile. You’d stepped too far and I wasn’t going to allow you to forget. I justified my actions to myself, it was the only way you’d learn, it was the only way you’d change. The only way you wouldn’t hurt me again.

Still here I am again. Only I’m the one who chose to change, I decided to finally see you for what you are. I can’t believe I tried to fool myself for so long, how much faith I must have had in you to believe that you could be so much more than the person you always showed me you were.

My loss, and yours. We’ll share this one last thing. My ability gone to see whatever good it was in you that made me want you in my life. Your loss, someone who you never would have had to ask anything of, it was all yours. I would’ve stood by your side through all things.

I’ll give you this final parting gift, I allow you to mark me up just like all the others – another one that walked away. When everyone in your life has been branded this way maybe then you’ll realise that some of us didn’t walk away, we simply got tired and stopped running after you.

I never thought I’d quote an Ice Cube song for a blog post title, but it works for me.

Today I didn’t even have to use my A.K.
I got to say it was a good day.

Another Sunday come and gone.   Francy and I have started to get back to our old habits.  This is a very good thing as our old habits are 10x better than our new habits.  Old habits include Sunday morning happy time and late afternoon walk to enjoy how awesome this city looks at Christmas time. New habits were bitching about the relatives who make our lives miserable, 6-hour lunches with the aforementioned relatives and/or staying inside all day.

Today, Francy’s Zia Maria came over with her husband (Zio Enzo) and son (cousin Giuseppe).  Zia Maria is the best of all his relatives.  In a family where ball-busting is the sport of choice, Zia Maria minds her own business and has a kind word for everyone.  When you spend time with the relatives from Francy’s father’s family you wonder how he managed to avoid becoming just like all the other crazies on mamma’s side of the family.  Then I realize I shouldn’t  ask why, but just be grateful and shut up.

Francy is cooking away and I get to sit here and relax.  Mi sono sposata davvero bene-Grazie Francy.

Galatians 5:16-26

Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh. Galatians 5:16

Have you ever noticed that in winter some oak trees retain crisp, dry leaves long after the maples, the elms, and the walnuts have become bare skeletons? Even the strong winter winds and the early spring rains do not strip the oak branches completely. But as springtime progresses, something wonderful  happens. Tiny little buds start appearing at the tips of the twigs, pushing off the dried remnants of the preceding season. What the winds and rain could not do from without, the forces of new life do from within.

At times, old habits cling to our lives with the same tenacity as those oak leaves. Even the winds of trial and suffering do not remove all the lifeless leftovers of our fallen human nature. But Christ, who dwells in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, is at work. His life within us continually seeks to push off the old habits, renewing us when we confess our sins, steadying us when we falter, and strengthening us to do His will.

When every effort to cast off an old sinful habit ends in failure, remember the mighty oak. Thank God for His Spirit who lives in you. Keep saying yes to His gentle urging to be kind, loving, honest, strong, and faithful. He’ll push off t hose “lifeless old leaves.” —djd

When stubborn sins tenaciously hold to their former place, we must rely on Jesus’ strength and His unfailing grace. —sper

The best way to get rid of a bad habit is to start a good habit — rely on God.

I don’t make it easy. Every space, every space reminds me of you. I spent a lifetime surrounding myself with constant reminders. Even those not obviously connected – songs, images, words. They all come back to you. My way of always having you close, my coping mechanism backfired.

It’s not as simple as erasing you. Your memory tied to the very things I have come to love. Rather than quarantining myself I have painted over your reflection. I replaced every thought of you with happier times, genuine smiles, and laughter. But still there you linger, beneath the surface. In the darkest recesses, in the spaces where I have least control.

I have no answer to your presence there. If I follow my own theories it’s because at those times your thoughts have turned to me. Even if that’s true, what good could possibly come of it? If you had shown me you could cause anything but harm you would not exist only in that space. There I always had words for you, but now still nothing. I know you don’t have answers for me either. You haven’t figured it out.

I try to think my way through this. It can only be the response to one of two scenarios. The first, albeit unlikely possibility is that you have realised that your actions were wrong. You don’t know how to make amends so you wait until you think enough time has passed that my anger will have subsided and I am able to talk to you again. The tried and tested method. It’s never failed you before. The other, that you have learnt to do what I try to do every day, perhaps for the rest of my days: stay away.

I weep.

Who doesn’t want to be successful? Everyone does, and everyone does in there own way. We all have our own areas of expertise and things we want to do in our life that make our heart sing! But how do we get there?

Well two big things you have to work on, you have to know where you are and where you are going. Most self-help material today teaches you to focus solely on where you want to go or what you want to be or do. But I have found with my own pathway and search that you also have to know where you are. If you don’t know where you are in life, how could you possibly know where you want to be? Maybe you are already there and just don’t know it yet!

You have to pay attention to your habits that are already controlling your life. Habits are the ideas that sift in from the subconscious mind that cause you to behave like you do without giving a conscious thought to it. They can be small or big, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what they are doing to your life and how they are controlling it without you even realizing it. It can be anything from how you respond to people that call you at work or the way you speak to your boss because you don’t like your job.

Habits are actually easy to break and change if you know notice them and make a conscious decision to say, “This is an old negative habit and I no longer wish to have this in my life. Instead I will replace it with…” and fill in the blank.

When you replace a bad habit with a positive one it propels everything forward in your life that you want to change. So think about your habits that you do day in and day out and which ones do you want to change because they are not a positive result in your life path. Make a conscious decision to do something about it today and watch it unfold each and every day in a positive way!

For more information, online courses, programs, healing and much more visit us at http://www.healingartforms.com

Many Blessings
and Love and Light

Nicole Lanning