50 days

I don’t even know where to start.  But it’s always good to start with gratitude – and I’m filled with it. 

It’s been 50 days.  In these 50 days, our sweet Edison has seen many doctors, has had many tests, has taught a lot of nurses how to calm him, taught his momma and Nana and Papa a world of all-things-Edison and grown our hearts to sizes we didn’t know could fit in our bodies.

I have a lot of friends in this virtual world and they rooted and they prayed and they checked in and they called and they wrote and they sent meals and they picked me up when I just fell over and they loved.  Oh boy did they love – from all over the globe our growing family felt the love from Team Edison.  Thank you from all our hearts.

The nurses – especially Rina and Erin – were his lifeline.  His LITERAL LIFELINE.   When a baby all of a sudden cries and drops his oxygen to a point of turning blue, these nurses whispered, paci’ed, calmed, held, rocked, loved, fed, changed, advocated and held steady. We don’t appreciate our health care workers enough, we just don’t.  (Why is it that those in charge of protecting our children – police, teachers, nurses – get paid the least when they’re the ones who should all be making 6 figures?) But they get paid with their hearts.  The magical women (and one man!) who helped him these 50 days in 2 hospitals have angel wings under their scrubs.  They simultaneously give the right care to babies while calming the mother’s heart as much as a NICU Mom’s heart can be calmed. Their advocacy for their tiny patients is big and loud, even if they were small and soft spoken.  They will always be in my heart and gratitude.

The neonatologists, the otolaryngologists (ENTs), the pulmonologists, the cardiologists, the gastroenterologists – yeah – all the ‘ologists – they treat these little tiny babies with a fine line of “let’s see how he’ll shine” and “let’s keep him very safe and alive and flourishing.” They talked to the moms and the grandparents with respect and love for what they do and advised  (not forced) on the path always letting Edison lead the way.  Edison has a schedule and a path and sometimes he let us in on it and said “Got this!” and sometimes he said, “back off – not ready yet!” Everyone just had to get the message and his doctors allowed him to guide the path and not the reverse.  So grateful. 

And now we get to his mama…. From the moment she was born she had HER path and HER way.  And this pregnancy and birth, in Jillian fashion, didn’t follow “norm”.  Why we would ever expect that, who knows? But the most gratitude here goes to her.  From the moment she found out about her little peanut she was “mama” in all the love and worry and neurosis that encompasses.  She couldn’t have the delivery she wanted because of medical issues but she was the most unbelievable badass I’ve ever witnessed – determined and strong in her struggles, she amazed me.  Then, when they took him to NICU, she felt fear, frozen, uncertainty.  The only thing positive was this fierce love and protection for her boy.  She paid attention, she learned the language, she asked questions, she advocated, she pumped, she cried, she panicked, she rose, she grew.  She found out she’s stronger than she thought (no surprise to her mama) and more capable of hard things than even she could imagine.  And NO ONE calmed Edison the way his mama could.  She never thought she was a calming force to anyone – but to him she is that and more.  She is his hero.  And I get to witness that.  How freaking lucky am I that I get to witness her heroism and my grandson loving her? Yeah – the big gratitude right there is to her.

And a friend just sent me this:  It’s so hard to fathom… These weeks that started out so tenuous and worrisome.   …. They will be woven into the stories about his life “Did you know you spent the first weeks of your life in the hospital?” In the course of his life these days will seem like a tiny blip.

So 50 days of tubes and monitors and desats and nurses and doctors and steps forward and steps backward and hospitals and parking and NICU baskets and volunteers and gifts and prayers and eating out and no routine and fears and hand squeezes and SO. MUCH. LOVE.

He’s home!! We’re on to the next adventure!  Stay tuned.

My baby is having a baby!

My baby is having a baby.  Those were the words I cried with her the day we found out and that fetal monitor was hooked up.  For the few hours prior, we were all in shock.  But I run in to that emergency room and suddenly hear that heartbeat and I can’t stop crying.  “My baby is having a baby.  My baby is having a baby.”  

I never saw this in the cards.  Well, maybe I saw it in the cards when my kids were little and playing and discussing what they wanted as ‘grownups’.  But as one medical nightmare unfolded after another, Neil and I just accepted that grandparenthood wasn’t in our future.  “Man plans and God laughs“, they say.  But I believe that this was in reverse.  This was His plan and we have had ALL the emotions surrounding it (including laughter.) God saw fit to give this baby to my daughter.  I can’t pretend to know His reasons for things.  I can imagine – and I do – that she’s made to be his mama.  She’s made to help and guide him to giggle and toddle and ride bicycles and learn his ABCs.  She’s made to love him and hold him when he’s holding his arms out or hurting from a booboo.  She’s made to dry his eyes.  She’s made to cheer him on whether it’s sports or homework or a crush.  She’s made to support him in his decisions and know that her unconditional love is behind him.  She is made to make her own mistakes and pick up and move forward like all parents have to do.

And us?  Neil and me?  Raising a child is hard work – the hardest.  It’s the most worthwhile and purposeful job there is in our lives.  We don’t make all the right decisions but do the best we can and move forward.  We live in the hard stuff and don’t reap benefits immediately when ire and angst come from all angles.  We hold them when they’re hurting.  We giggle and watch favorite movies and travel and walk and fight and laugh together.  They become more human and less angsty and we enjoy them as adults.  And it’s all good – unless it isn’t because life is all good unless it isn’t.  But when we’re done raising and now just loving, sometimes there is still a dependency that we didn’t think would be there.   Again – Man plans and God laughs.  And again – nope – that’s in reverse.  God planned this because sometimes … in this time…  we get this gift of a grandchild to adore.  And we will laugh. And we will cry. And we will feel all the feels.

Was it in our plan to house the two of them? No.  Is it important right now?  Also no.  We get to be this little man’s voices and arms and music and touch.  We get to surround him with so much love to start off strong.  We get to be completely inconvenienced – in the happiest way possible.  We get to kiss him and sing to him and dress him and change him (and change him again and again and again!) We get to let his mama be his mama and sit back and watch her do this mothering thing from all heart.  She has had role models – not just me, but all the nurturers in her life, her aunts, her grandparents, her sibling, her friends.  If someone asked her prior to her pregnancy, “Are you ready to be a mom?” the answer would have been categorically “NO.” But in the last 2 months I have watched God prepare her.  He’s used love and fear and anxiety and laughter and strength to help her get ready.  But she is ready for this role. 

We are ready for this role. 

There is history – as there always is.  We have religious history, societal history, familial history, genetic history, and lots more.   All of that history makes us who we are in this moment.   

But he’s beginning his own history and we all have a hand in that.  And that’s pretty freaking awesome. 

Sometimes you do need to assume

Twelve years ago I broke my right (prominent hand) wrist. A week later I had surgery and there were things I couldn’t do for weeks.  Personal things.  Bathroom habits, dressing, working on a keyboard cooking, opening things.  I wasn’t even allowed to start PT until 4 weeks AFTER the surgery – a full 5 weeks after it happened.   I had surgery the week of Thanksgiving so the entire holiday season, where I entertain, cook and bake for many, and usually even roll out a new innovation for WW – well, I was handicapped.  Each day this last week I see that year’s Facebook memories and I remember what was behind the words – the depression, the loneliness, the frustration. 

Did I get help?  Yes.  I did.   People just helped me.  I didn’t ask for it.  They just did stuff.  Neil obviously took the brunt of it because not only did he do the most personal of tasks, but he handled the depression and despair over the whole thing.  Not a lot of people saw that despair. But it was very present. People cooked.  They cleaned.  They drove.  My boss even bought a software that would dictate in to the entire MS software suite so I didn’t have to type. 

This injury was obvious.  I had a cast. The help appreciated and volunteered.  People saw me and were kind and empathetic and giving and understanding.  I had a cast.  And although when I was out, I was sometimes smiling and laughing with family and friends, the obvious injury was visible – the rest – notsomuch.

The people around us everywhere have less obvious –mostly invisible – injuries.  Some may have chronic diseases like Parkinson’s or Lyme or MS that haven’t yet become “visible.”  Some may have cancer but without the obvious side effects of chemo.   Some may have chronic depression or severe anxiety.  Some may be having amazing days within their illness and some may be so miserable – we do not know.  But since the beginning of COVID, the sheer numbers of those actually STATING they were fighting depression have skyrocketed – and those are the ones reporting.  Overdoses are at an all-time high according to a news report I heard today.   People are struggling. 

I started writing this piece about the broken wrist I had.  Since I’ve been on Facebook, I’ve been what many call an “over poster”. I have friends and family who tell me that I shouldn’t post so much – it’s none of anyone’s business.  Of course I march to the beat of my own drum and do whatever it is I want.  But all that said, one of the reasons I got unsolicited help from SO many is because I shared information.  Most people don’t overshare like I do. They are marching to their drum. But it doesn’t mean they didn’t break their wrist….or foot….or heart…  I study people wherever I go and sometimes play the game, “what’s their story?” What are people NOT sharing?  What is happening within their lives that I cannot see – that is NONE OF MY BUSINESS? 

You know what, though?  It doesn’t matter what is going on.  I need to assume – we need to assume – that something is going on.  So, before we open our mouths with our overstated opinions on masks, vaccinations, hair color, tattoos, politics, body weight, leggings, bikinis or piercings, we need to assume SOMETHING might be going on with them.  We need to step out of our unconscious bias-laced shoes and watch what we say, how we act, and how we react and respond to others.  It’s a matter of kindness – this assumption that who you interact with might be struggling.  No – not everyone is struggling.   But would we behave differently if we think they might be?  Why is that? Would our words and actions be more gentle?  More empathetic?  More caring?

I did not ask for help when I broke my wrist.  I just stated to the world “hey, I’m broken” and the world gave me help.  But how do those who don’t share they need help have the world help them?  I don’t know.  After I got out of the cast and no longer had visible evidence of an injury, I still couldn’t do some things well.  I have noticed through the years that asking for help is a show of strength.  It’s a way of saying, “I so desperately want to succeed in this and in order to do that, I need HELP!” Many people haven’t learned that yet. 

But what none of us need, in our days when our hands aren’t working, our mouths aren’t working, our hearts are hurting and inside us something isn’t going well are others being unkind.  We do not need judgment, criticism or rudeness.  We’re in the middle of the holiday season – completely joyous for some and really hard for others.  Unless the woman at the checkout line is in a decorated sweater and dangling Christmas tree earrings, we won’t know the difference.  Maybe even then.

Long post to just say, be kind.  (I told you I was an over sharer!)

I didn’t let myself GO – I let myself FREE

Prior to the pandemic, I was in my stylist’s chair for hours every 5 weeks.  Every three months the process of highlighting was even longer.  For YEARS prior, my husband and daughter tried to convince me to go gray.  They said it would be amazing.  (My son wisely said once after being asked if he liked my new highlights, that he doesn’t notice my hair so much as my mood.  If I’m happy, he assumes all is good with my hair.)   I’ve been graying since early 20s slightly and much more forcefully in my 40s.  But the pandemic hit and I had an opportunity.  I didn’t have an opportunity with my jobs not to be seen – LOTS of people saw this process – a process, by the way, that my hairdresser told me she could soften and make easier.  I said no.

But I then imagined something.  Do me a favor and make believe (remember how fun it was being told to make believe?) that there was never any hair dye – ever.  No one ever invented it.  No one ever used anything to color their hair.  The world was without that one piece.  (If any of you ever saw the movie Yesterday, this is a concept they put in the movie – a world without The Beatles, cigarettes, Coke and so on.) So every person’s hair was authentically theirs – balding, blonde, brunette, streaked from sun, silver, red.   Everyone would have their color hair – a color as unique as they are (opposed to the thousands who have the exact same dye number on theirs.) And their hair would age along with their skin and their bodies.   Now imagine in this world, if ANYONE would associate gray with “grandma”.  They wouldn’t.  You wouldn’t.  It would be a realistic expectation that as we got older there would be a lot of silver going around.  Some brilliant marketing and a multi-billion dollar industry and we are convinced we all look younger if we don’t have it.  I believed this to my core.  Neil has no grays and I wouldn’t let mine go because I didn’t want it to look like Aunt Marci is taking little Neil to a movie.   I sat with my hairdresser and a calendar when big trips would be and we moved backwards so my hair would be PERFECT.  

Fast forward to this pandemic.  There are a lot of negative things about this pandemic but letting my hair free wasn’t one of them.  I’m pretty vain and put a high price on beauty.  I love my makeup, having my hair colored, doing things to my features (including my hair) to look beautiful – or as best as I could.   So was it hard to be on Zoom with this line of gray/brown?  Yes. But one of my core values is connection and I was not only NOT going hide from people, but I wanted them to see this process.   I wanted them to see that it can be done with a smile, with some humor, with some class. 

This week in WW workshops we’re talking about body confidence.  This can be a very touchy and vulnerable subject for everyone.  But the technique is adjusting the mindset from looks to what your body can do.  (For example, going from seeing big bulky legs to seeing the legs that allows you to walk or run or hike.)  I would look in the mirror and from 2 weeks in from the hair appointment, I’d see roots.  I hated them.  I was a prisoner.  My hair became this burden.  And the pandemic allowed my already-strong mindset to say – NOW.  Now is the time to release the burden of a calendar of appointments.   And this decision was followed by months of this line getting bigger and more pronounced (in my head as well as on my head!) and I joined Facebook groups to talk me in to keeping it.  To support each other.  I found strength.  I found women who were still unsure and asking others to help them.  I felt like I was watching the strongest people reach out their virtual hand and say to each other, we can accept and move forward together.  It was mind boggling and beautiful.  Throughout the process – even when I hated that stupid line in my hair, I got comments from strangers.  Some of them ridiculous and rude.  But most have been positive.  And since the transition, I’ve received more compliments on my hair from family, friends, and strangers.    

Our society and culture and family gives us messages:

fat is unhealthy
curvy is beautiful, but only to a point
fat people are lazy
wear this
don’t wear that
women who are gray are letting themselves go
men who are gray are silver foxes – distinguished

Guess what?  The stuff people can see about us doesn’t even come close to what makes us US.  Not even close.  If I walk into a job interview with my gray hair some people might judge.  But the right people won’t fear experience.  But I don’t worry about that because part of this process is owning myself – more authentically each year.  (I’m not 100% there yet!)  Plus I really don’t want to expend any energy on those who only are judging me by what they DO see.  I want my circle to be those willing to go deeper to find out what they aren’t seeing.

I’m a compassionate, connected, loving and strong woman married to my best friend.  I love speaking in 3rd person for fun. I have emotional problems and successes.  I’m Jewish and a proud mom.  I have two jobs I adore.  I have kids who are adults and have their own mishigas (craziness in Yiddish) and I love people and bacon and dogs and chocolate and coffee and the sound of M&Ms being poured in a crystal bowl.  I practice gratitude but might smack someone who told me to look at the good in every situation.  I get angry at politics and dehumanization of people and groups and bullies and stupidity and closed minds.  I love loving people.  

I also have gray hair. 



Dear Ma….20 years? Really?


Goodness….it’ll be 20 years since you’ve left this world.  But did you really?  I can still feel your heart beat when I remember resting my head on your chest.  I can still feel your hands when you reached to give me your touch.  I hear your words, the accent, the tones.  Yeah, you had a few tones, didn’t you? 

But 20 years is a long time without a phone call a true hug, a meal together, a tissue box movie together, a temple visit together, a sleepover, a confidence-boosting talk (on both sides).  Although I feel you in all these things I do, the magic you gave all of us is still here, but sometimes there’s a screen in front – or is that the blurriness from tears?  We carry on (no choice there and you’d be ticked off if we didn’t) but I still miss you holding me so close.  You hugged like no other.

Death interrupted my plans.   When you died, it felt like I lost my anchor.  This is the cost of having someone worth missing.  Yes, I hear you telling me that’s ridiculous. “I gave you a backbone for you to walk straight without me, Mawcee!” In fact all your lessons was to give your family the confidence and reliance to live without you.  It actually is the best gift I’ve ever received – self reliance.  You didn’t always have it, but you taught it. But it also makes me miss you more.  We get moments, you know, when we need reminding and sometimes I search for you or pick up the phone and dammit, you’re not there.  And in some rare moments I find myself envying all these other women my age with moms who are alive.  There are photos of them doing things together.  But then I remember a few things:  one – it’s okay to feel that envy and I stay in it for a few minutes, but also that I had you.  I had YOU – the best there was – for 39 years.  Although not long enough, look at what you did for me in that short time?  More than many do in double the years.  I had you. I still have you.  It’s hard to say that my love outlived my loved one, but the love still stands.   

I recently saw Dad and watched him struggle with finding some memories and realize I do that, too. I can’t piece them together and fear they’re lost forever.  But they aren’t lost forever.  Sometimes memories need to be protected under the covers, like I did.  I know they’ll peak out when I need them most.  You always gave me what I needed – not necessarily what I wanted – and I consider it the same situation with these precious memories.  I’ll touch something, smell something, and hear something and voilà – you’re there bringing me that memory (but never wrapped and usually without a note or just one that said one word – Love.)  When I want to reminisce, I want all the memories at my fingertips, but maybe the memory of the Halloween baked potato with Ric, and a Girl Scout camping trip with BarB (with American Chop Suey) and so many books you lent me and told to me are all memories hiding together under a blanket and will pop out when we need them most. 

I had planned (in my head) to go up to Maryland for this 20th anniversary and put some stones on your stone but realized that you’ve never been there.  I’ve never felt you there.  You’re in my kitchen, in my kids’ smiles, watching An Affair to Remember or Pillow Talk with me with a box of tissues next to us and me laying my head on your chest, you’re eating dumplings with chop sticks at my table, you’re changing your eye glasses, you’re telling me about every friend of yours and their children.  You kept up with all the children – your own and all others.  I know you’re watching them. I know you’re watching us as we all grow and learn.  And when I don’t feel your hug when I think I need it most, I know – I KNOW – you’re hurting when your loved ones are hurting.  I could waste my breath and say I wish you were here longer for my kids.  But you’d tell me not to wish my life different. 

I imagine that in your Heaven you are reading to the children, having book clubs with the authors, hanging out with your nearest and dearest  and looking and watching us make our lives, stumbling or thriving each day. “Hey, that move – all me!” I imagine you saying how proud you are of the kids and Neil and me.  I can hear it in your voice and feel you in my soul. 

Recently I learned a concept about heart brain coherence.  I won’t sit and explain as I have much more to learn, but it’s there that I find you.  And when I breathe in and out a certain way feeling my heart expand, you’re there and you’re comfortable there.  It’s where I’ll keep you so you can help me breathe and expand and grow and love – myself and others – the way you taught me to.  Death rewrote the script, but it’s a script I’m getting very good at.  It’s a road I’ve lived for much of my life.   And I’m able to help others on the pathway – the way that you’d want me to.    

I’ll close this as you closed all your notes – without a name, without a salutation – just “Love.” 

Feel. Notice. Sit with. Question.

^^^^^^ This is bullshit. Excuse the language – or don’t, but I do not always want to feel motivated and I don’t always want to be disciplined. This all or nothing garbage thinking had me reach a very self-judgy place. If I’m not either, am I lazy? I don’t have to be ANYTHING all the time. I don’t have to be happy, grateful, determined, motivated, lazy, encouraging – anything ALL the time.

This human experience is complex. It’s cyclical and messy and our phases don’t have to have dotted lines going from point A to point B. We are living in a squiggly line world and that’s okay. That’s better than okay – that’s authentic.

Each time I’m in pain or frustration, I do not have to think – “this is a God moment, He’s teaching me something.” Or “What’s the positive in this situation?” I can just be in the pain or frustration or the angry or the happy or the sad or the frustrated or the calm. (Have you never noticed why we never question life when we’re calm? That can’t be good!) Sometimes we’re not ready to feel taught or grateful.

What I’m learning as I’m noticing (powerful word that “noticing” word!) is that I do not have to give words to the feelings. That was/is hard for me as I love words and always search for the right ones. Sometimes the right ones are none at all. I’m pretty sure (I’m 58 and somewhat new in this noticing practice) that when you respect the feelings (and there are no negative feelings – there are HUMAN feelings) that are UNCOMFORTABLE and feel and honor and give them pause and say “hey, I see you; I feel you” what follows is wonderful. If then those other more pleasant ones arrive, they are FAR more pleasant. So what I’m noticing is that when I finish sitting with the uncomfortable feeling (again – not GOOD or BAD), my comfortable feelings feel greater than they did before. Talk about appreciation.

Of course I want to be motivated. Of course I want to be determined to accomplish my goals. I don’t want to just sit and feel and document all I’m feeling. I need to coach myself with the follow ups – well, Marci, what will you do next with what you’ve noticed?

Pandemic learning

In my Facebook memories are beautiful moments of travel (damn – I was in Hawaii and Connecticut and Virginia), of studio workshops and member comments, of company at my house, of my kids here of dogs playing.   

During this pandemic it’s easy to look back and think, life’s all broken now.  Will I ever _____ again?   Will I ever feel the same way as ____ again?

The answer is no.  But it’s because moments in time are as unique as snowflakes.  I might have company – it will be different.  I might travel – it will be different.  When I go back to WW studios, it IS different.  (I went this morning to celebrate a 50 lb loss for a member!  It was clean and safe and socially-distanced, but different.) 

Being at home and saying no to many things to keep safe has had an impact on many people’s mental health – mine included.  We cancel more and more and postpone planning more and more and what happens is that we can go too far inward.  I’ve emotionally eaten.  I’ve emotionally lashed out.  I’ve emotionally rested.  All the while I was thinking I need to move past the emotions instead of sitting with them.  Once I started sitting with them, turning towards the part that felt a little broken or tender or just plain bad and staying with them like I would a hurt child…. I found some valuable information inside.   Not information to put in to words, but more valuable “Marci” information I will use to go forward. 

This is what I’ve learned this week.  

What if this is the new normal?

When I was a new mother one of the best pieces of advice I received was “Don’t rush any of the stages.  Never say “I can’t wait til _____.  Relish in each stage, they’ll go so fast.”  What great advice it was, even though some of those stages were painful!  But living in the moment is very good advice.

What if this is our new normal?  I know it is for now, but truly there are many who will never be able to go back to their pre-pandemic normal.  They might have lost their income, their family, their spouse, their friends, their homes, their food sources, their sanity.  I sat in a workshop tonight where we talked about what is and what is not in our control and when, at the end, where we were declaring our intent for the week someone wrote that their intent was to treat this temporary time as if it wasn’t temporary.  How freaking beautiful is that?  We can take it in a million directions, but when we hunker down and start accepting things, that’s where we can make the most impact on ourselves.

I remember the day it occurred to me that although I might not have a weight problem, I’ll have a food problem for the rest of my life.  It was simultaneously depressing and liberating because it allowed me to accept and make changes and use some tools to manage the situation.   Surviving addicts will tell you that they had to own the responsibility of a problem in order to start recovery.  They have to face the fact that they have a new normal and it didn’t include whatever the behavior was that got them to the word “recovery.”  When people get a diagnosis of a disease, they have a plan to deal with it.  It might include surgery or medication or pain management – but they have a new normal.

So I ask again – what if this is our new normal?  What would be the good things?  What would be the hard things?  What would you need to change in YOUR life?  What mindset shift would need to happen? I ask this honestly because this wasn’t a concept that I was even entertaining in my head – and for that reason I wasn’t doing this in a healthy (mentally or physically) way.  But, if I shift gears and say –“This is it – this is the way it’s going to be – how am I going to create my life the way I want it to look?” then I might get somewhere – I might actually achieve and accomplish and practice self care and live a life that’s not temporary.

Covid 19 – Isn’t it just novel….

I come in contact with a lot of people with both my jobs.  And I’ve seen, as many of us have, many different reactions to what’s going on.  It’s okay.  Not all of us process information the same, in fact, none of us do.

Of course we have different opinions on the severity.   That’s okay, too.  This is unprecedented.  And we have to find our way – individually and together.

Me?  I’m a worrier.  I worry about those who were having a hard time BEFORE this all started and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.   I worry about those immuno-compromised.  I worry about these parents who won’t be able to pay for food and bills and have to stay home to care for their kids out of school – not knowing when things will change. I’m worried about how the people who are working health care and officers of the law who must work and are facing the sick and the ones who are truly in danger.  I worry about many different people for many different reasons.  I worry about my friends who are extraverts and are somewhat isolated.  I worry the Internet might go down.  (I told you – I’m a worrier!)

But here’s the thing.  I’ve used the word before and it’s true.   This is unprecedented.  And here’s another thing.  This virus is only fatal to few – can you just imagine if it were numbers up to 20-30-40%?  We are being inconvenienced.  We are told we can’t ____ and as people, we’re not good at hearing that we can’t ____. We stomp our feet and whine and complain.  There are people who will lose jobs over this.  There are people who will be very negatively impacted over this.  This is SERIOUS.  But I’m watching the 5 stages of death as described by Elisabeth Kubler Ross:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

We can’t rush the stages, but we can recognize them.  And while some of us might be farther ahead than others, please help those who aren’t.  Help understand that we can’t be told to just accept and move on.  We have to go through a process.

What can we do in the mean time?  While this process goes through our brains, we can listen.  We can nourish – ourselves and others – physically and emotionally! We can connect with those around us.  We can turn off the outside and reach inside.  We can turn off the inside to reach out for the outside.  We can get creative.  We can grow as people, as students of the world, as mentors, as providers.  We can reach out to our neighbor to see where we can help them.  We can cook and color and love and sleep and learn and read and run and breathe.  We can give each other room and come in closer to each other when we come out of this.  And we will come out of this.  And some may have a form of PTSD.  And we need to practice patience for that, too.

I’d love for all of us to be on the same page.  But in the same way that there’s angst in our diversity (we see that politically and socially), there is beauty there, too.  I ask patience for while I go through this as well and please call on me to help you with yours.  We can sit in angst and worry together, have a virtual glass of wine or coffee over FaceTime, collaborate on ideas and recipes – whatever.  We’re in this together, apart.  Let’s be apart together.


Say yes to you

We walk in to WW because we want something. We might want a new clothing size, a lower cholesterol, fewer pains in our joints, to be healthier, or even to be an example to our kids.

BBQ, candy, cookies, bread – all are on the plan with WW. There is no cheating since nothing is off the table. But if we say every time, “sure, I can have it, since it’s not off the table” then we’re not eating according to our goals.

I’ve noticed that as a society, we’re very in-the-moment. We want immediate gratification. When we see something, we’re not saying “no.” We’re not even saying, “not now.” People are buying food, cars, clothes, etc., because we’re making it SO easy and I’m noticing… well, we’re easy. We’re easily enabled.

But what would happen to your weight loss journey if we started saying “Yes” to your goals and “no, thank you” to the behaviors that might hinder them? What if we switched our thinking – shifted our mindset – to each time we’re faced with that over-the-budget indulgence we’re not saying no to the food, but saying no to going over budget.

When we say yes or no to food, we give food power. When we say yes or no to our behaviors, we give ourselves power.