Too Much Information

Hi friends!

It's late at night (for me) and I'm high on cold meds -- first ones I've taken in four years -- so I thought I'd quickly write down a disjointed blog entry.

I am riding a hormone rollercoaster, as usual. Last week I saw my gyno for a check-in and she put me on estradiol; it's a transdermal patch and I am to wear it for a week, starting "when the bitchy feelings begin." Which was three days ago. I am also taking natural progesterone, synthroid, zoloft, and a handful of supplements. Do I feel better? Yes. Much. Am I "back?" Well...not quite.

I have discovered the joy of yogaglo. Anusara classes that I can download/watch at home when I want, when I can. It has given me a new love for the practice. I especially enjoy Elena Brower's teachings. I know she's kind of like a rock star yoga teacher, but she seems so down to earth and really earnest about how the practice reaches into her own life. Very simple. Not always after the big pose. Which is not to say that I'm not after the big pose myself, cuz I am. Mothereffin' handstand. But for me, these days, it's more about the connection I need to feel like myself, to actually BE myself out in the world anymore.

Again, the question arises: "Who am I?"

Did I tell you about this? About how, after an entire weekend of studying the Gita with Ma, I came to realize I've been asking myself the wrong question all these years. It's not "What am I supposed to be doing with my life?" It's "Who am I"

Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? 

Ahhh...

I am not (just) the body.

But.

My rotator cuff is finally starting to heal. WOW does it take a long time. I think massage has been the most beneficial treatment. My massage therapist, my friend Melissa, says many people get "Frozen Shoulder 50" somewhere between 46 and 50. My infraspinatus and my supraspinatus are basically fucked. Tweaked through chronic external rotation, weakness, carrying Bodhi, hunching over nursing, doing pushups and chaturanga with a weak shoulder, ignoring twinges, etc. etc. My whole left arm has weakened. The 50 thing seems significant. There is a lot of fear involved. Tremendous fear. Backbends and inversions, which are what I need MOST of all right now, trigger a lot of fear. The most painful pose has been shoulderstand, which asks for a LOT of external rotation in the shoulder. And the shoulder will do it, even if the forearm is tight and weak and doesn't "curb" or "brake" the rotation. The forearms are like the outer shins; they help to maintain the midline, I think. Anyhow, as I get near 50, what do I need most of all? To be able to change perspective, to go upside down. And to be able to fall backwards. Like in a backbend. And my heart needs to STAY open. I know that as we get older we tend to grow more fearful, less flexible, less willing to take chances. Also, backbends and inversions are the core practice for hormonal balancing, so they must be the biggest part of my repertoire.

Anyway. There's that. And it's getting better. I spend a lot of time in agony pressing my upper arm/muscle attachments into a hard little ball at the wall, a "soft ball," a misnomer if ever there were one. As one of my regular therapeutic practice students says, "balls to the wall yoga!" But it does work wonders for releasing the scar tissue and connective tissue, as well as the muscles themselves. Sure hurts, though. I'm also lying back over a bolster in a supported backbend, and working a lot on freeing my hips. No question that tight psoas and QL on the right are pulling on that left shoulder.

I need someone to eyeball me as I move throughout the day and in every pose.

So yeah, enough about that for a minute. What I'm really contemplating, and what I'm really procrastinating, is the writing and rehearsing of my FIRST EVER SOLO SHOW on January 26th!!

The show is called "This Body of Words, Spoken." With a subtitle along the lines of "A feminist, erotic, yogic, transgressive pseudo retrospective."

I'm finally going to do it. I'm finally going to present my work, all by myself. And I will enjoy it immensely. I have old stuff I'm going to read, and probably some new. I've had to reclaim myself as a poet, who became a creative nonfiction writer, who became a blogger, who became a feature writer, who wrote content, who wrote erotica, who became an editor, who writes facebook updates and five minute poems. Who forgot how much she loooooves to perform. And interact with an audience. So we shall see.

I told my shrink that I thought I had to choose between my two great loves, Yoga and Writing. And she thought that sounded odd. Like why not do both? Why not indeed...as a Gemini it's my right.

I don't know that I'm cut out to write directly about my experience with yoga. Every time I try, it comes out like this instead. Like I don't really have the discipline for that. I think I'm more cut out to speak the humiliating truths of my life in public.

My hope is that it will humble me, and help someone other than myself in the process.

Thanks, Thanks a Lot

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, the second one we've hosted at our home. Since we moved in just over three years ago. I love throwing parties; for me that means gathering a huge amount of food, various friends, setting up tables and chairs and music and then...waiting. For whomever to show up. I was a little bit surlier than average this week because of it, but other than that it was a pleasure rather than a stressor. And I have discovered the joys of RECIPES.

I went gluten-free almost six months ago, with the occasional transgression bringing about an itchy, swollen tongue, spaciness, and a general feeling of dis-ease. I tested it out last weekend during our anniversary dinner with some French bread -- yep -- and then again last night with some cornbread stuffing. Yep. Don't know yet what it all means, except I definitely don't miss that feeling. And I really don't miss gloo-tang.

I also took Bodhi off the G; after his teacher told us she thought he had sensory integration issues, a trusted advisor suggested it, and I researched it, and my SIL put her autism-spectrum-disorder sons on it to great effect, so...we did it. And as far as I'm concerned there's no going back. He also had a taste of G during dinner yesterday, and was almost immediately out of control. For a couple of hours.

Listen, it could all be my imagination. The food industry wouldn't knowingly add ingredients to what we eat if they could cause any harm, right? Food hasn't changed since we were kids in the seventies, right?

In lighter conspiracy theory musings, when I posted on FB that my "traditional" Thanksgiving dinner list of ingredients included such items as dry mustard, hemp milk, and sweet rice flour, a friend living in NYC responded that "GF is so trendy in NYC right now I couldn't find sweet rice flour anywhere; the Whole Foods shelves were empty!" Which made me laugh.

All of this to say we had a wonderful, barely fractious gathering of family, friends, and fantastically delicious foods. We even ended up playing Cranium with my cousin Missy's two daughters.

On a sad note, I often feel like my family has mutated since my Dad died. We have jokingly said, "Surely Dad wasn't the glue that held us all together!" But I think it is proving to be true. My mother spends more time chasing after her own  mother these days, and my brother is a little bit missing in action. He's lost three jobs in the time since our Dad departed, and I only ever speak to him if and when he returns my calls. I miss him.

It is interesting how connected I feel to my cousins after giving birth to Bodhi; I'm the oldest girl of six girlcuzzes, and all but one of the eligible five after me had already had kids. (Several of the boys have been fathers for a while.) I'm excited to get Bodhi together with his second cousins now. He digs it. My cousin Missy and her family just moved to right outside of Waco, about an hour and a half's drive from here. She has made the trek to visit us at least half a dozen times, and I love it. She is a strong, compassionate woman. Been through some harrowing shit in her day. Just became a GRANDMOTHER, of all things. She's the first of us to do that. Theressa, born just recently. I love that Missy has reached out to me and that we are more connected now. Her knowledge of herbs and supplements and food is admirable. Though of course since she is my cousin I have to get huffy and competitive about it. (I can be a dumbass like that sometimes.) We love that we're holding down the vegetarian end of our carnivorous clan.

What my body needs now is a yoga practice. I woke up having dreamed of doing backbends! I'm all in love with Inner Spiral right now. Oh sure, I've spent some time with I.S. but lately it's been a lot more intense and important.  It's like suddenly realizing that this great friend I have is actually sexy, and now we wanna be together as More Than Friends. Like that. It's the Expanding Spiral. So not only am I making more room and creating more freedom in my own body -- it's also the ultimate principle for Fertility, I've learned -- but in my Life as well.

Yay for that.

My body continues to change, post partum. I had a regular period last cycle, the first one in a year. I felt so relieved, so complete again. Then with this cycle came intense abdominal pain, an ultrasound, a gallbladder cleanse and intensive acupuncture and herbs. And no bleeding. Until today. Almost two weeks later than expected. Hot flashes all last week and stress through the roof. Also a couple of loving, uplifting yoga practices and a massage. So changing is just riding the rollercoaster a little better. And eating a lot more green and fresh food. Except of course for cornbread stuffing and French bread.

I still dream of having another baby, which is still an argument with my husband that no one can win. Perhaps my fears about Bodhi growing up and older alone without a sibling are part of my motivation to connect him with his family. He seems to love it, though, as I did when I was small. I just think, sometimes, that as an older parent I may not be around another 46 years to see him through some tough times. Though I hope to.

Mother's Little Helper

Well. Here I am, back on the little helper. I tried not to do it, but the mean reds were getting out of control. It's been about two months, and I have noticed a difference, if not in actual brain chemistry in the knowledge that I am taking something that may lift me up a little.

I come from a long line of depressives and alcoholics. As we say in Al anon, "There but for the Grace of God go I." Except that apparently hormonal changes and tragic, traumatic deaths and other events have got me under a barrel.

I've written lots of drafts for this blog in the past few months, but posted none of them. Basically it's been a long, slow crawl back to some semblance of happiness and a reality with the hope for happiness. After all, everything is going my way. I've done a lot of "fake it til you make it" since June, but for now I seem  to be authentically happy and fulfilled.

I'm going to revisit those old drafts and possibly post some of them here; as Bodhi continues to grow and change and bowl us over with his amazingness, I realize the need to document. I have thousands of pictures now that you should see. If I can take the time to do a facebook update I can take the time to do a longer blog entry.

The good news:

I'm back in the writing and performing saddle. I just gave a poetry workshop for a writer's conference and did a reading at Bookwoman that KICKED ASS. I'm preparing a solo spoken word show for FronteraFest, my FIRST EVER. I realized that I actually have enough decent material from over the years to put together a 20 minute show. I even have a song or two.

Memorial Day Weaning

I know, I've fallen so far behind in my posting it's ridiculous. I'm mustering up the courage to share with you here just all of what has been going on...

Big News is that I weaned Bodhi.

Just like that.

On Memorial Day. We had talked about it off and on, and then that morning, with my husband's help and some distracting new trucks out in the backyard, I was able to gently say "no" when he asked me to nurse that morning.

He still asks for it every day, and he cries sometimes when I say, "Remember, we don't nurse any more." And then I offer him a snuggle or a cuddle or find some other distraction to soothe him.

I've cried over this many times.

In the early days of breastfeeding, I couldn't even imagine the blissful bonding I kept reading about. I felt like a milk machine, tethered as I was to the pump or to my little baby's mouth. But there is something to be said for oxytocin; wow, once that latch gets established and you're listening to all the sweet, tiny animal sounds of your babe nursing peacefully in your arms...ah, there is nothing like it in this lifetime.

I miss it.

I miss the closeness, the ability to soothe my child in one moment. I even miss his antics, the acrobatics and the biting. I hope my son and I continue to stay close and loving for the rest of my life. He is everything.

And the weaning came right in the middle of the Tunnel of Time Toward Death; the time period that is marked by my birthday on up until my father's Death Day, which was 06/07/08. In the weeks leading up to that date I was markedly more irritable, sad, despondent, hopeless, agitated...and then I remembered it was an anniversary. The last time I spoke with my father was on my birthday. From then on, his consciousness was in and out and even though I was with him up until his death, we did not converse. It was an exhausting, extremely traumatic time.

I have begun going back to Al Anon. It's something I started in 1997, and it literally saved my life. I seriously worked the program, working a sponsor, doing all of the 12 steps, attending meetings, speaking at meetings, chairing meetings, and then my sponsor moved away right after I moved to Austin (1999-2000), and I never found a meeting here in Austin that I liked. (Self-sabotage, anyone?) While I was hurtling down the Tunnel of Time Toward Death, I found myself sobbing in the car and driving to an Al Anon meeting, one I knew was happening for sure and at a location I had been to before. Of course it was like immediate balm for my soul, and I've been going back almost every day since. I am actively seeking a sponsor now, and am looking forward to revisiting the 12 steps now that it's been 10 years and my life is completely different.

And things have gotten so much sweeter around here, and I'm so much softer and less angst-ridden, much kinder to myself and those around me. That is the gift of the program.

Anyone else out there grow up in an alcoholic family, or have an alcoholic boyfriend/partner?