Sweating It Out

I've done enough crying this year. I still cry too often. Earlier this year I was lucky enough to spend time sitting on the beach, under the big moon, the smell of salt air filling my senses. All the crying purges the pain inside me. The ocean soothes me. I was still missing the sweat though. 

Then today, after almost a year of not doing yoga, I walked into a hot yoga class. This was my first led class since the whole "husband of 25 years walks out on his family" saga of the last year. The last led class I attended was just as I was plunging into my major depression/almost suicidal realm so no matter what happened on the mat, this class had to be better than that last one.

It's been a tough haul this past year getting myself back together. Baby steps forward and then a bump back. Just recently my body began shouting at me that it was time to get moving again. I actually forgot how much I enjoyed a good sweaty workout. iPod in, heart pumping, breathing heavy - it's good for me. It feels right.

I remember a couple years ago a friend saying to me he noticed that when I was exercising more I was definitely happier and had less bouts of depression. Yes, that whole exercise as a mood lifter thing is true. I've also noticed that when I'm exercising more I get more creative and have the urge to write again. It's pretty common for me to write out a blog post in my head while I'm breathing and sweating. 

My baby steps to creating a new, happier post-divorce life had conquered my fear of returning to the gym, but now it was time to get serious and get back on the mat. I actually had intended to go to hot yoga last week, but a bout of sun poisoning from falling asleep in the pool had me confined to bed all weekend covered in aloe and watching marathons of The Newsroom on HBO. (Yes, I actually fell asleep in the pool long enough to be sunburned so bad I got sun poisoning. However, in my defense, sleep is sometimes still illusive and that 1 1/2 hours in the pool was the best sleep I've had in a long time. So, skin cancer risks aside, it was worth it).

I was honestly nervous about going to class today. Much of my strength is gone. My flexibility and my stamina have also gone into hiding. It's only temporary I know. But, still, I miss it. I checked the class schedule a few times and gave repeated reminders to my kids that I was going out for the afternoon and no you can't go with me.

After the tuna fish before hot yoga incident of a few years ago you'd think I'd know better than to eat a Lenny's Italian sub for lunch, but no, I actually did it anyway. I did have enough sense to drink plenty of water before class though.

And why do I always decide my body needs hot yoga in the middle of a Southern summer heat wave? A high of 95 degrees outside, with heat indexes easily reaching 100, and I decide it's perfect to spend an hour and a half in a 90 degree room. 

My plan to just take it easy and accept what I was able to do quickly went out the window when we began class in padmasana (lotus pose).  My hips used to do this and they will do it again today! And they did! Admittedly I had to rest my head on a block instead of the floor as we folded forward but, ahhhh, there's that deep hip opening.

Actually, the physical practice went much better than I expected. Yes I was dripping sweat like a hooker in church, but so was everyone. My body acclimated quickly to the heat and soon found that yoga groove I've missed for too long. My body had been hinting at some imbalances in my body lately and they were obvious today, perhaps to no one else but definitely to me. My left knee is still a little weak from last years surgery so that made balance poses a bit more challenging. 

But the part of today's class I'm most proud of is that I got my mind to quiet. My mind is never quiet. Ever. It's constantly reviewing my financial worries, concerns about my future, worries about my kids. But today, for just a brief bit, it quieted. My body sweated and my brain relaxed. 

Tonight I'm exhausted. Not really physically, more so emotionally. I didn't cry during class, but I know that some energy that had been blocked was released. I know the sweat purged some negativity I had been holding on to. 

I know in order to reclaim my life I had to get back on the mat. It feels good, really good, to have taken that sweaty step back to finding me again.

Things To Do

When I got in to work today I opened my notebook where my staff writes me notes of what needs taken care of, reminders, etc. 

Today, this is what I found:

My staff deserves a raise.

A Night of Summer Bliss

Fresh vegetables and barbecue chicken on the grill.

Kids laughing and dogs running outside.

Teens and their friends eating faster than I can cook.

"Mom can we go night fishing, please?"

Wet pool towels and flip flops on the floor.

Feeling absolutely content and truly happy. 

Sassy Little Girls Grow Up To Be Strong Women

My mom was a strong-willed woman. She gave birth to and raised two strong-willed daughters. We, in turn, are raising three strong-willed granddaughters.

I'm often reminded of this when I least expect it. Most days I'm proud of them. Some days I just wish they wouldn't use their strong-willed attitudes towards me.

Kid 4 just returned home from her week-long trip to Washington DC with Junior National Young Leaders Conference. She had a fabulous time, learned a lot, made life-long contacts and was chosen for unique opportunities to improve her leadership skills.

But like a typical kid, she was home all of about an hour when the fighting with her siblings started. Which led to this conversation:

Me: Abby, please just stop talking.
Abby: I don't have to. I have freedom of speech. I learned all about it this week in DC.

Now, the parenting books probably would say I should have stopped right there and disciplined her for being sassy. Or I could have pointed out that my house is it's own little country and she has no rights under my dictatorship.

Instead, I stifled my smile, looked her directly in the eye, and said "You should use your powers for good and not evil."

She knew what I meant. She's a smart kid.

The other night I had kid 6 with me at the end of my 11 hour workday. At one point she got up to hang a sign she had made for me on my office door.

"Girls and moms rock the world. No one can change that." 

I thought it was just a cute little sign at first. Then I thought it was pretty intuitive of my  eight year old. Does she see herself as a strong girl? Does she see me as a strong mom? Have I taught her she is a powerful being who should always stand up for herself?

I was definitely aware of strong, powerful women who refused to be silenced this week. Kid 4 was meeting with Mary Beth Tinker in Washington, DC.  In fact she was at the Capital Building when the Supreme Court handed down it's landmark ruling against DOMA, a lawsuit initiated by 84-year-old Edith Windsor. Here at home, I followed Wendy Davis's 11-hour filibuster in Texas. 

Do my little girls sassing me now or drawing me pictures mean they too will one day make history? Probably not. But I do hope they always maintain their 'stand up for themselves' attitude. I hope they never allow themselves to be disrespected. And I hope they too will one day stand up and fight when they see an injustice.

But, please, just not against me.

Nowhere Else But Here

My girls dance recital was last weekend. I did not cry when they danced onto the stage.

I didn't cry, much.

My mom always cried at my childhood events. Always. A lot. A few of my tears last weekend were for my mom, wishing she could be here to see her granddaughters dancing on that big stage. My mom would always tell me "wild horses couldn't keep me away" from whatever performance was upcoming next.

Kid 6 sound asleep on the way home but still
holding on to the flowers her brothers gave
her. There's no place else better
than right here.

With my recent divorce I'm now working full time and am missing a lot of my kids events. The girls asked if I would have to work the night of the recital. Wild horses couldn't keep me away, I told them.

Me, each of my four boys, one of the boys girlfriends and two friends who have stepped up to help my family this past year were all there to cheer as the girls danced the night away. My friend leaned over a couple times to whisper her amazement at how good the girls, all the girls of the dance school, were. Yep, our little town dance school owned that big Memphis stage Saturday night.

Seeing the joy on my girls faces as they danced brought me joy in the midst of a very difficult year.

As I watched,  I wondered what could possibly be better than this to drag me away from here?  A night out with friends? No. A moonlit walk on my favorite California beach? No. A trip away? No.

I am often overwhelmed at being a single mom of six kids. I'm over stressed, over worried and missing out on events I never had to miss out on before. But watching my little girls on that big stage, I'm reminded I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Nothing, no place and no person is more important to me than being there for my kids. Nights like recital night remind me as difficult as life is right now, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

A Mother's Day Letter To My Sons

Dear boys --

Today is my first official Mother's Day as a single mom. As Mother's Days goes it was no different than any other in the past. I made dinner, cleaned up from dinner, did laundry and cleaned bathrooms. I'm not complaining, really I'm not. I'm grateful I get the privilege of being your mom and there is no way I'd ever walk away from being your parent. I love you too much to ever leave you.

As teen boys go, you were pretty cool today. You willingly hugged me, surprised me with gifts and sent me Happy Mothers Day text messages.

But I want to tell you something. Please don't roll your eyes at me. Trust me, you will appreciate this advice in the future. There are a few things you should remember when one day - a long time from now - you have a wife and mother of your children.

• Never, I repeat never, say to your wife "You aren't my mother, I don't have to buy you a present." That's just offensive and disrespectful. It's not funny. 
• Say thank you on other days besides Mothers Day. If your wife is fortunate enough to be a stay at home mom, she doesn't have it easy. She spends her entire day taking care of everyone else at the expense of her own self.  
• Don't volunteer your wife to babysit other peoples kids. If she wants to take on that additional responsibility she will offer. 
• Speaking of babysitting, please don't think you are doing your wife a favor by babysitting your own children. No, it's not babysitting. It's called raising your children and being an active, involved parent. It is what I expect of you and what she needs of you.
• It's not about a big present. A hand written note from your heart is all it takes.
• Your children will mimic you. If you treat your wife with respect and love, your children will too.
• When things get difficult between you two, and they will, step back and look what you've created. The minute that baby is born it is no longer about just you two. You have created something bigger. 
• Your wife may not always be your wife, but she will always be the mother of your children. 

Remember the love and care you have shown to me this past year, and you are going to be a great husband and father one day.

The Wife vs. The Mistress: A Lesson in Compassion

As part of another baby step towards reclaiming my life, I am once again writing for Elephant Journal Magazine.

Here is my  newest post:

The Wife vs. The Mistress

A Lesson in Compassion

Please click the link, comment and share the post if you enjoy reading it.