I had a revelation this past year. Two of them, actually. Okay, three. Or twelve.
One: My husband, John, created a video for our oldest daughter's graduation from high school, one documenting Emma's life since birth to that moment of leaving home, going to college, walking into the world on her own. As I watched this beautiful progression of her life, it became so, so clear to me that I have spent the last 18 years trying to hide behind other people in photographs, buying and wearing clothing I didn't love but that fit over my hips. Eighteen years. And probably, yes, longer even than that. Not walking in the world in jeans, a simple t-shirt and flip flops, but in every outfit covered by a big overshirt. Not wearing a bathing suit, never wearing shorts. Hiding. I watched it a few times, each time realizing that I knew exactly how I felt about my body at that point in time. "Oh, that's baby weight," I said until Emma was 10, for example. Every pound a witness to a heartbreak, a change, a fear, a celebration.
Two: I've spent the past year being tested for things. Ovarian cancer, endometrial cancer, and repeat. The morning they first tested for ovarian cancer, I sat in the parking lot sobbing, and then drove to the Chocolate Fetish and bought a nine-pack of chocolate covered caramels with sea salt and ate them all in the car. When I found out that test was negative two weeks later, I drove back to the Chocolate Fetish, bought another nine-pack of chocolate covered caramels with sea salt and ate them all in the car. I told Michael Scholtz, a brilliant wellness coach and personal trainer. "So," I said jokingly, "do you think this means I'm an emotional eater?" He smiled a quiet smile. "Well, Patti," he said, "if you had only eaten them when you thought you were dying, maybe not." He paused. "But the fact that you ate them when you found out you would live... yeah, maybe." We laughed. Yes.
Three: In November, I ended up in the emergency room with what I thought was a heart attack. It wasn't. But my blood pressure was very high: 188/144. I typically have very low blood pressure. And I am now on medication to bring it down. I am not fond of taking medication and want to find other less intrusive ways to lower my blood pressure. "I want you to sweat six days a week," my doctor said when giving me the prescription. I knew what he meant: lose weight.
There was an article in Wired Magazine a few years ago called "Change or Die." It reported, among other things, that 90% of heart patients, when told they had to change their diet and exercise or they would die, did not change anything. Not even the threat of death got them to change their Krispy Kreme couch potato habits. Not even death.
I will change. Yes, I surely will.
As I start 2011, I no longer have in front of me the "lose 50 pounds" mantra. It is gone, irrelevant. While I do know that my natural, happy, comfortable weight is less than where I am right now, but I am no longer measuring happiness--or the lack of it--by a number. I am not concerned with a size, but a measure of wellness.
I am measuring wellness from now on by how bendy I am.
What is bendy?
Bendy is flexible, strong, able to run when it wants to. Bendy feels connected to body, stretched, confident, able. Bendy is a body not in competition with other bodies, and not even in competition with itself. It just is. Stretched and tall and aware of its Self. Bendy is a body to go along with a head; it is learning from the neck down. It is embodied learning. Embodied living. Embodied mindfulness.
I'm spending 2011 becoming bendy. Again.
I'm documenting that journey here for myself, and for others who might find it helpful.
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1.1.11
2 hour yoga workshop. I'm a beginner. When I realized I would get there late, I almost didn't go. My body-covering outfit was still wet in the dryer, leaving me with nothing but a tshirt that showed every bump and roll. Before today, I might have let that keep me home. I went. I got there 2 minutes before the class. I didn't know what to do, what equipment to get. Everyone was very quiet, sitting on their mats, surrounded by blocks and straps and blankies. The teacher came to the door, and I explained I was in a strange land, unable to read the signs. She asked my name, and helped me gather the things I would need. I stepped in the door, with my hips and my peace t-shirt that didn't cover them, and--of course--the only space left in the class was in front, right in front of the teacher. Not my corner back hiding spot. It was perfect, really. Perfect. I went. I stood in my space uninhibited by comparison and I followed her instructions. Within 30 minutes, I realized that this could save my life. My blood pressure an hour after the class was the lowest it has been in months.
Gym. Emma and I went to the YWCA later in the day so I could continue my daily walking (six days a week, alternating 20 and 30 minute walks on the treadmill). Today: 5 minutes on the elliptical, a machine that kills me; and 15 minutes on the treadmill, no incline, 3.4 mph. The woman on the treadmill next to me was running at 8.5 mph. I was happy with my 3.4 mph. I was happy that I went. That I had committed to it, and that I went.
Food. I eat a vegetarian diet, and have since 1976. Vegetarian does not automatically equal healthy. I have decided to make more vegan choices in 2011 to support my moral beliefs about animal products and speciesism. I am opening the opportunity to become fully vegan this year. And I am open to the fact that I may fall short of that. I realized after the yoga workshop today that the kind of attention to the body that yoga provides is so supportive of a focus on mindful eating, that the two are related in a way I had not anticipated. I live my life in my brain, not in my body. Or I have, for the past 30 years. So I am committing to mindful eating in 2011. That may take many forms. It won't be linked to deprivation or extreme diets, this I know. It will be linked to fresh fruits and vegetables in far greater numbers than I have eaten in the past and to drinking more water. It will be linked to eating when I'm hungry, seeing food as fuel for this body. Today's visit to the grocery store was a pleasure: apples, pears, bananas, berries, lettuce, red peppers, cucumbers, asparagus, edamame. The colors were delicious.
Hi Patti,
At the age of 51, I want to be more bendy too. I LOOK like I'm in good shape, but the objective assessment says it ain't so. So, I'm starting up with a strength coach. If you have any interest, I'll give you his name. Also does a wicked nutrition consult which will tell you more about your body's ability to handle foods, stress, etc than you ever wanted to know. Rock on!
p.s..I'd really like to meet you in 2011!
Posted by: Anna Garrett | 02/06/2011 at 01:21 PM
Patti, thank you for this too! You are a cataylst. Everything you write moves me to tears, laughter or action. Thank you.
Posted by: Patricia | 02/07/2011 at 09:35 AM
Yeehaw Patti! All these folks and you and I must be riding some cosmic wave! I woke up and popped Rodney Yee on and stretching away this morning - and now here's your new blog! These few days have been great as I also started reframing my body, my health, and my world. You are right - it's not running the numbers, but understanding what drives us and what stories we've been telling ourselves that keeps us trapped. Yahoo! On our way!
Posted by: PureJade | 02/07/2011 at 12:18 PM