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RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS

1/30/2015

I may have been a bit hard on Joey Klein. Certainly, my sister thinks so. Here’s her response to my blog post:

I see that I did not make my point.

Well, that was sort of her response. I might have paraphrased. It was a long text. And you don’t need to know when my big sister is disappointed in me.

I listened to the CD again--I even searched for and found the missing set of CDs my sister gave me as a gift, a 12-week meditation program called, Mental Mastery: Create an Extraordinary Life, by Joey Klein, part one of four (in a 6 disc set!), of the Transformation Series. The cellophane remains in tact but I will get there. I discussed with my sister the pros and cons of Mr. Klein’s approach.

My sister has followed the program and found it extremely helpful in lowering her anxiety. Side note: Practically every woman--and many of the men--in my family have an anxiety disorder. We also have thyroid disease, which may or may not be connected. And while some people get a note in their medical files that heart disease or breast cancer runs in the family our red flag is suicide. So, yeah. Ignore mental health at your peril, missy.

My sister explained that if I continue to feel as if “there is a stone in my heart”--my words--every time I imagine adopting healthier eating habits and abstaining from alcohol, then, clearly, I will not change these behaviors. She said it is easier to change a behavior if I first change the emotion attached to it, which is the point of the CD. I figure that means connecting wine with the hang-over and clean eating with that cute dress I have hanging in my closet, the one with the tags still on it.

Only, the whole thing seems like a chicken-or-egg proposition. Why is it easier to change the emotion attached to a behavior rather than change the behavior attached to an emotion? I get that if I don’t find the joy in eating my veggies, I probably won’t keep eating them. But it seems just as “easy” to start eating my veggies and try to attach joy to the act as it does to attach ... oh, forget it. None of this makes any sense. It’s all starting to sound like a math word problem. If Evie leaves Penn Station on a train to Boston two hours before Howard takes a train traveling 20 mph slower ....

According to big sis, this is where meditation comes in because, in a meditative state, we are more in tune with the subconscious. The brain, it turns out, does not sense that much of a difference between something real and something imagined. To our brains, thoughts are things. Therefore, meditation and visualization can help me attach joy to the act of eating my veggies. I love veggies and, eating them, I feel my blood pressure drop, my waist shrink, rainbows and unicorns, omm. Rinse and repeat. Once my brain has locked into the imagined connection in the virtual sense--how much I love veggies and enjoy their benefits--I will actually start attaching those good feelings to the real-life version of eating veggies. Happy, happy, joy, joy!

For my transformation, my sister suggests hypnosis. She understands that I am a highly suggestible human being and that I need a little hand holding when it comes to this meditation stuff. Hypnosis would allow me to just relax and follow instructions, something I’m pretty good at, actually.

I’ve made my appointment and I’m looking forward to my possible transformation. Because February is breathing down my neck like a mother and I’m feeling shaky about the whole lasting change part of this experiment.

Happy, happy? Joy, joy?

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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BRAIN YOGA

1/26/2015

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My sister has been slipping me CDs on meditation. She actually bought me an entire set for my birthday ... which mysteriously disappeared before I could even break the cellophane wrapping. Stuff like that happens a lot in my house--gremlins or something--so it’s really not my fault that I never listened to them. Really.

I think she paid a lot of money for that box of CDs and I feel commensurately guilty. I also feel guilty that I can’t find the latest CD she gave me--just the empty sleeve in my glove box--because that one is “borrowed,” if borrowing means my sister cornered me at Christmas and pressed it into my hand. But yesterday, as I was getting into my Prius for the ride home from a visit to my parents, she handed me another CD, looked me in the eye and said, “Listen to it on the drive. Text me what you think when you get home.”

My immediate reaction was crap. I’d been listening to Amy Poehler’s book, Yes, Please, and who really wants to do homework when you can lose yourself in Amy’s hilarious stories not to mention that voice? Unfortunately, my sister rarely asks anything of me so when she does I feel obligated. Let’s just say that the scales of could-you-do-me-a-favor tilt significantly against me.

I did not go into this with an open mind--you did catch that homework reference? But my sister has been reading my posts and she searched through what has to be a significant collection of self-help CDs for one on point with my Dry January goals. The least I could do was listen, begrudgingly and all. It was part three of four (yet the CD is numbered 5?), of Joey Klein’s Transformation Series, Physical Mastery: Creating Optimal Health and Well-being. Note to self. Add a long description after your blog title, something like: My Life in Change: One woman’s year-long journey to achieve long-lasting personal change.

Joey Klein is a teacher who marries the traditions of East and West with scientific approaches found in genetics and psychology. My sister is a teacher with a degree in genetics and a strong background in psychology, so I get the draw. I was introduced to Mr. Klein’s work mid-series (though I’m fairly certain that fat stack of CDs with their cellophane packaging was authored by the same). Listening was a bit like watching your first episode of Criminal Minds but in season 10. You pretty much get what’s going on but you know you’re missing something.

Honestly, the whole thing felt like brain yoga, which is what I texted my sister when I arrived home. And if you’ve caught any of my prior posts, you know how I feel about yoga--all that breathing and sitting still.

My ears did perk up when Klein mentioned neuroplasticity, a concept that involves changes in the brain made by changes in behavior. I’ve already posted about the allure of changing my brain (That Damn St. Germain, January 19), but I’m not sure I’m buying his pitch.

I believe the main point of the segment was the connections our brain makes between bad behaviors--in this case with food, or alcohol, or cigarettes--with joyful occasions like Thanksgiving and Christmas or bonding with the bros. He gave the example of the first time he had a shot of vodka. How, despite the bad taste, the bonding with his friends turned the experience of drinking into a positive in his brain. For the same reasons, family holidays turn the taste of pie into something we seek for a morale boost when we’re feeling low. We connect the taste of pie with the joy of being with family and friends.

Now, I’m going to add here that some of us drink to survive family holidays, but I get what he means. Still, the argument strikes me as a little too tidy. After all, if the taste of the vodka was so foul, why wasn’t that the connection? And later, after we’ve eaten that pie over and over because we’re depressed and discover that, hey, babe, the pie just makes you sad and guilty for over-indulging, again, why isn’t that the connection made in our brains? Why don’t I look at pie at family gatherings and say, “Wow, that makes me feel sad and guilty.” Because I am damn sure I’ve eaten illicit pie a lot more times when I’m sad than at joyful family functions but I still light up like a pachinko machine at the sight of a slice.

So yeah. I’m missing something. But again, maybe I just came in during Season 10. Or maybe Criminal Minds is not my cup of tea--though I think that could be blasphemy.

In any case, the whole system appears to hinge on practicing meditation consistently. Which brings me full circle: It feels like brain yoga and I don’t wanna do it.

Honestly, the answer here is to get Amy Poehler to do a sketch on mindfulness and meditation. Now that, I wouldn’t mind popping into my CD player.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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GOOOOOOOAL!

1/24/2015

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Today begins the 24th day that I have not had an alcoholic beverage. Two things here. First, why have I been successful? Second, and more importantly, why don’t I feel good about it?

Indulge me here in a little navel-gazing. There’s an actual word for that: omphaloskepsis. It’s supposed to help in--you guessed it--meditation, and may involve chakras and stuff. But in my case, it refers to being self-indulgent. Because I’m not planning to google or read a book or even ask some well-informed person to aid in this post. I’m just going to ruminate.

I know part of the reason I’ve succeeded to stay dry in January thus far is because I set a goal. And despite many failed attempts during Lent, I’m pretty good at keeping my goals. I’m assuming--really fighting the urge to google here--that setting goals is an effective technique for modifying behavior. Nothing like, I-will-never-drink-again-will-stay-a-size-six-and-become-an-international-best-selling-author kind of goal. Just something concise and attainable.

Somewhat unintentionally, I’ve also been using substitution as a technique. I’ve been drinking more coffee, interesting teas, and flavored waters. I’ve also developed a yen for hot chocolate at night, the really rich kind with the slightly bitter taste that cuts through the creamy milk and sugar. You can practically stand a spoon in it.

Finally, this blog is a major distraction, a healthy one because it falls under the category of “journaling.” I’ve also started a kind of coffee klatch with my neighbors, the ones with all the self-help books. Apparently, they’ve actually read said books and are quite “self-aware” and “mindful” people and are willing to share their hard-earned knowledge. We meet once a week on Monday mornings. Our sessions feel suspiciously like group therapy but with people I love and respect so there’s no dear-lord-will-she-please-just-shut-up. At least not yet.

Set an attainable goal. Check. Substitute bad behavior with a healthy one. Check. Use distraction. Check, and double check.

So why don’t I feel good about it?

I have a feeling that answering that question will go a long way to achieving long-lasting personal change. It also sounds worthy of several sessions with my therapist, whom I have on speed dial. I am sure Google has great insights posted on the subject. But right now, I’m practicing omphaloskepsis.

On a prior post, I mentioned that I was an all-or-nothing kind of gal, which was why I have so much trouble with the concept of baby steps. I want to fix everything at once. This is probably because my critical eye usually wanders over to, “Sure, you haven’t had a drink in 24 days, but lookee here! You’re eating like a kazillion calories and, honey, writing a blog isn’t exactly getting that book proposal done.”

Hmmm.

How to be kinder to myself? Because while I’m sure that fear is a great motivator--it’s gotten me through law school and the California Bar and many a book deadline--I also think fear has me disappearing into a bottle of wine and bad reality shows.

So, crank up my inner cheerleader. That seems like a decent goal. For today, anyway. Baby steps.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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BURNING THE MIDNIGHT CANDLE

1/22/2015

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Let’s talk scented candles. My favorite is Havana by Archipelago Botanicals--the smell just puts me in heaven. My sister bought me my first Havana candle for a birthday and I’ve been hooked ever since. I’m sure she chose the candle because of the name--we were both born in Havana--but I find the blend of bergamot, tobacco leaf, and ylang-ylang magical.

An 80-hour artisan candle will set you back $45 and, yesterday, I bought more than one online. I also bought a diffuser, a pillar candle and bath salts, all in Havana. These were not my only candle crimes. At my “local” Nieman Marcus (It’s a good 30 minute drive to Fashion Island in Newport Beach), I bought an equally pricey Molton Brown candle in Relaxing Yuan Zhi.

Retail therapy ... probably not what my scientists were thinking when they suggested distraction as a coping mechanism. But it makes perfect sense to me that the first thing I gravitate towards is probably not a “healthy” distraction.

Still searching for my magic bullet (exercise and meditation, bah humbug!), I hit Google and wade through a surprising number of definitions for distracter tasks. Eventually, I land on the Psychology Today website for “Where Science Meets the steps: The new science of addiction,” by David Sack, M.D. In a post entitled, “What Is Healthy Distraction?” Dr. Sack discusses both healthy and unhealthy distractions and how distraction works. He also provides a link to an AddictionTreatmentWiki post (Holy WikiLeaks! They have their own addiction magazine?), “Coping Mechanisms,” which cites exercise, positive thinking, journaling, meditation, relaxation techniques, and talk therapy as healthy distractions.

But here’s the thing: All of the above sound like real work. To me, a distraction should be effortless. A go-to bandaid like a baby’s binky. I pop it in my mouth until the craving passes and my good neurons fire, guiding me toward healthier modes of coping ... like exercise and meditation.

I reach out to a therapist friend. She practices cognitive behavioral therapy, or CBT, and since “behavior” is in the title I figure her advice should be on the nose. Unfortunately, she doesn’t warm to my idea of a mental binky. According to her, distraction, as outlined above, is an activity that requires effort.

I bring up that thingy people do with a rubber band on their wrist. But she clarifies that, while the pain from the rubber band snapping can disrupt the thought, “I want a drink,” the act needs to be followed by an actually behavior to replace the drinking, like, drumroll please, exercise and meditation. She suggests I make a list of 15 minute tasks I can do around the house instead, the idea being that these tasks will distract me from the urge to grab that lovely cab Whitehall Lane just delivered to my doorstep (because I’m part of their wine club), long enough for the bad urges to pass, after which I break out the real distraction techniques of exercise, meditation, yada, yada, yada.

I can’t tell you how disappointed I am by the idea of housework as a distraction from fine wine. It just seems like a really bad trade-off. The child inside me wonders why I can’t just have my cake and eat it too? In my case, that would be to consume all the wine and food I want while watching scads of television and still managing to lose weight, maintain a successful relationships with my family and friends, and write a bestselling novel.

Yeah. I’m dreaming.

After drawing up a lengthy list of 15 minute tasks, I drive to my local grocery store to shop for dinner. There I find a lovely smelling 60-hour candle for a reasonable $19. It’s the little things, people.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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THAT DAMN ST. GERMAIN

1/19/2015

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I am planning my first cocktail in February with the enthusiasm of a bride-to-be evaluating wedding cake samples. It’s just that I have these two cute bottles of St. Germain, the 50ml size you find in hotel mini-bars and planes (they’re called nips). They were out of the regular 750ml bottles at the liquor store when I set out to buy supplies for a New Year’s Eve party. Shockingly, I was in charge of the signature cocktail and apparently I read the same online recipes as everyone else, many calling for St. Germain. I was told by the cashier at the liquor store it’s quite popular this time of year.

St. Germain is a French liqueur flavored with elderflowers. The flowers are picked in the French Alps and bicycled to collection stations where, using a secret family technique, they are then macerated to extract the best flavor. The taste is difficult to pin down but bears hints of pear and lychee and goes really well with champagne.

So why am I blogging about a French liqueur when I’m supposed to be abstaining from said liqueur? It’s called focusing on unwanted content--or at least I think that’s what it’s called.

Yesterday, I phoned my sister for advice on how to proceed with my blog. I felt a need to be more “scientific” in my approach. This is, after all, a kind of experiment. The reason I reached out to my sister is because she is a scientist, with a bunch of letters behind her name earned at such lofty establishments as Caltech and Harvard. My sister got the brains in the family and I would like to say that I got the looks but the beotch is also gorgeous. Because she is genetically blessed, and my big sister, I never feel guilty imposing on her.

My sister explained in no uncertain terms that what I am doing is not a scientific experiment and there is nothing I could do to make it so. Apparently, one person does not an experiment make in the world of science, which seems a little judgy to me, but ok. However, she did give me an article to read on distraction as a coping behavior.

The article is actually a chapter from Biobehavioral Foundations of Self-Regulation, G. Gendolla, M. Tops, S. Koole (Eds.), called “From Distraction to Mindfulness: Psychological and neural mechanisms of attention strategies in self-regulation,” by Lotte F. Dillen, PhD, and Esther K. Papies, PhD. The title alone made me think I’d hit the behavior-changing jackpot but I was also completely intimidated. A quick scan showed I’d be reading about bottom-up processes, negative valence, and things like the amygdala and the insula. I’m not going to try to interpret or paraphrase what I read--I don’t have a degree in psychology or the neurosciences. But I can discuss my take-away.

Along with distraction, which appears to be a short-term solution, I should practice something called “mindfulness,” which sounds suspiciously like meditation--something that, like yoga, I’ve avoided most of my life ... all that deep breathing and sitting still. But apparently, both techniques take up brain power, thus limiting my ability to focus on things like little bottles of St. Germain and how well they go with champagne.

So let’s talk about distracter tasks. In the field of science, distracter tasks often involve doing math. I’m not much for that--I prefer reading an article in Lucky magazine about, “Outfits for Every Occasion,” (December 2014 issue), but you get the idea. If you’re using your noodle, the parts of your brain that whisper sweet nothing about cocktails or chocolate cake are now competing for attention with glossy pictures of faux fur jackets. And the more complicated the task, the more disruptive it is to those sweet nothings, so maybe I should fill out that seasonal color analysis questionnaire to see if I’m a Summer or a Winter?

It must be noted that my scientists are not offering a silver bullet here; there are caveats. Distracters may interfere with long-term learning or have a rebound affect. Which brings up the strategy of mindfulness.

Mindfulness is an approach based on Buddhist practices like--as I feared--meditation. The advantage to mindfulness training is that, with time and practice, I can actually change my brain, which is huge. There is also something called “mindful attention,” which to my understanding requires you to focus on the trigger--little shiny bottles of St. Germain--and see it merely as a “mental event.” My reaction (yum!), is like a wave that passes over me and disappears. I don’t need to avoid or suppress my desire for that cocktail, I just need to focus on my reaction and dub it transitory--maybe like when I stub my toe and the pain washes over me, but eventually recedes.

Of course, mindfulness, the approach that promises more long-term success (hey, I’m changing my brain!), requires a good deal more effort than keeping a stack of magazines handy. And, because, unlike mine, these are respectful scientific experiment, there is always the disclaimer that more research is needed.

If you’re someone who has already spent considerable time reading about and mastering these techniques and are possibly offended by my dumbing down, please feel free to tweet or write your displeasure in a comment below. But here’s another thing I learned reading the chapter my sister sent me: These techniques require practice, which makes them less attractive to people not highly motivated to change. That might be me. So baby steps. And finally, something that I keep reading in a lot of these websites on distraction and substitution: There’s no one-size-fits-all solution here.

In the weeks ahead, I plan to try and suss out distracter tasks that work for me. And, while I am skeptical, I will even try mindful attention. After all, if I’m working for lasting change, it seems to me that the brain is a good place to start.

In the meantime, I'm going to take those two nips of St. Germain and hide them in a drawer. See you in February, St. Germain!

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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DOWN THE GOOGLE RABBIT HOLE

1/16/2015

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The next logical step would be to define change. After all, inquiry needs structure. If I have no parameters, how will I judge progress? And I’m a bit of a score keeper.

Almost three hours later, I’ve fallen down the Google rabbit hole. I stop reading when I get to electromagnetic radiation as a behavioral influence. I am completely out of my realm. What happened to I’m going to research the shit out of this?

I decide to stick with my baby steps and search for substitute behaviors for drinking, focusing instead on Dry January. That seems like a decent task for one post. From my years of therapy, I know substitution is a good strategy for ditching unwanted behavior and I google things to do in lieu of drinking. But, again, no joy. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I find only the usual suspects: Exotic teas, juices served in wine glasses, mocktails or a brisk walk ... and an interesting article on dry bars in the UK where you can drink things like a Beetroot Coco-tini. In Los Angeles, a dry bar is where you go to get your hair styled.

Having already done Dry January last year, I am familiar with fancy mocktails, nonalcoholic beers and wines (Stay away from the wines. Unlike beer, wines without alcohol have not cracked the taste code. We’re talking bad grape juice diluted with water). And while this kind of substitution is great for a night out, when those around you hoist a glass, it didn’t really work for me longterm. Quite the opposite. I found myself obsessed, searching wine shops and the internet for that unicorn--anything non-alcohol that promised the wine experience.

At this point, I’m feeling pretty frustrated, and a little intrigued by this Beetroot Coco-tini drink. I can’t even log onto the UK website for Dry January because apparently I don’t have a proper postal code, although I do use their unit calculator to discover that a large glass of wine equals 3.3. units. As a woman, I am allowed only 2-3 units a day, so I guess a medium glass of wine, which I gotta tell you, is not a lot. I’m pretty sure that nightly shot of Nyquil earns me 2 units.

And then there’s the matter of the books. They’ve been kind of haunting me. I’d gone to my neighbors the day before to watch the Divisional Playoffs (note NFL Pick’em on my confessional hobby list). Still battling my cold, I’d been enjoying a cup of apple spiced tea with lemon and honey, when I noticed that just about every horizontal space, coffee tables, shelves, occasional tables, had an artful pile of self-help books. I actually went over this morning to take down some titles. Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy, by David D. Burns, M.D. The Power of Unconditional Love: 21 Guidelines for Beginning, Improving and Changing Your Most Meaningful Relationships, by Ken Keyes, Jr. The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts, by Gary D. Chapman. Psycho-Cybernetics, by Maxwell Maltz. Courage to Change: One Day at a Time in Al-Anon. Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor E. Fankl. Fooled by Randomness: The Hidden Role of Chance in Life and in the Markets, by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. And these are just the ones sitting around the living room.

I begin to question if I’ve spent too much time disappearing into the world of fiction when the realization hits. Like John Snow, I know nothing.

I ponder the possibility that I should spend the first year of my project educating myself by reading a pile of books and then blogging about change. Unfortunately, I’ve always been the kind of person who starts pushing buttons before reading the directions.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below. (Perhaps leave a recipe for a mocktail or two. Help a girl out.)

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EPIPHANY

1/13/2015

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Along with the philosophical and psychological, I plan to write about the practical. I’m a pretty practical person. I want results. I’m actually not so good at the touchy-feely stuff, which possibly accounts for my lack of results. My approach to change in the past has been fairly standard. I want to lose weight. I want to cut back on drinking.

Problem: I haven’t had much success. And I’m all about results. I’m not really an it’s-all-about-the-process kind of gal. Add to that the fact that I tend to want to fix everything at once. It's all black and white--no living in the grays. So no baby steps, no matter how many times I’m referenced Bill Murray in What About Bob? Love that movie.

But I’m going to blog in baby steps. Because, screw it, maybe Bob is right? So here’s my first baby step. Remember that last glass of champagne? I have embarked on Dry January.

Surprisingly to me, this is a thing. Dry January began in Great Britain--all those pubs. It’s sponsored by a small independent charity called Alcohol Concern. Dry January is on Facebook, Twitter, and has it’s own registration page on a UK website. There are dozens of articles that list the benefits of abstaining from alcohol for a month: reduction in liver fat, weight loss, lower levels in blood glucose, even lower cholesterol.

I actually did Dry January last year, although, much like this blog, I began on January 6, the day of the Epiphany. For me, this is just as good a day as the 1st for new beginnings because, along with being a religious holiday in some countries, epiphany means to experience a sudden and striking realization. Because I was born Cuba, we celebrated El dia de los reyes magos--Three Kings’ Day--along with Christmas. My mother loved the post-Christmas sales and my sister and I loved the twofer. On Christmas, we each set out our stocking but, on January 6, we put out a shoe, which was when we received the mother-load of our presents. We celebrated Three Kings’ Day all through high school--in college, I studied abroad in Paris where the day is celebrated by eating a King Cake. The cake contains a fêve, or bean, which is usually a little plastic figurine, and whoever gets the bean is crowned king or queen. Ok, enough factoids. Just saying the day holds significance. And who really wants to start anything on January 1st? I'm eating pancakes and watching the Rose Parade.

Last year, I didn’t drink alcohol from the 6th to the 31st, which was when my husband and I toasted to, “good enough.” There is a school of thought that Dry January leads to a very Wet February. I didn’t find that to be the case. But my drinking did creep back to unhealthy levels so, again, no lasting change. I did take advantage of my dry spell to do my yearly blood draw for my physical and, indeed, my results showed healthy liver enzymes and lower cholesterol. So why wasn’t that motive enough to moderate?

This year, I haven’t found it all that difficult to abstain because I have a pretty bad cold. So other than my nightly hit of Nyquil--which I don’t count but probably should--I’ve been good so far. It helps to have a partner, in my case, my husband. But I distinctly remember struggling last year and I imagine that will come.

The question is can something like Dry January serve as a platform for continued change? I’ve been told that if you do anything for 30 days, it becomes a habit. But drinking isn’t really something you do, like taking out the garbage or flossing. For me, it’s more of a lifestyle. I go out with friends and drink. I like a glass of wine while I cook. I sometimes drink when I write, believing it softens that editorial voice inside my head and allows for more flow.

So I definitely think there’s more to it. If I make it to 31 days, that’s a good start. But how do I make it stick?

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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WELCOME TO THE WOMB

1/12/2015

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One of the reasons I want to write about change is because I am having so much trouble making change. I’m one of those vinyl records where the needle gets stuck from too many plays and now skips to that all too familiar groove. Which is weird. Most of my life has been nothing but change. I left the law for a crazy career in writing. I raised two kids, which is like playing The Game of Life, wack-a-mole style, trying to keep on top of the next challenge. Even in my childhood, chaos reigned. I was born in Havana, Cuba, and my parents immigrated to California via Spain as political refugees when I was five.

And I don’t buy the idea that because of my earlier chaos I somehow crave stability because I thrived in chaos. I was that person who hungered for the next challenge. I was easily bored, and, if anything, I had trouble with the follow-through. The only things that have kept my interest long term are my husband, my writing, and my kids. My list of hobbies over the last 20 years is eclectic and embarrassingly long: dog shows, rabbit rescue, Lancôme cosmetics, beanie babies, Fisherman crotchet, NFL pick ’em to name a few. I plunged into each with obsessive enthusiasm only to reach pseudo-expert status and like the bubble in the lava lamp, reach the surface and, pop, I move on to my next would-be passion.

That hasn’t happened in a while. The last five years my interest has settled like silt into drinking fine wine and watching television. I feel as if I’ve practically built a womb for myself on my couch with my dogs. And while others, my husband in particular, covet that womb, making sly comments like, “I wish I could spend the day drinking and watching Netflix,” my response is always the same. No. No, you don’t. Because I’m not just visiting this place. I’m not taking some much needed time off to rest and relax. I am stuck here. This is quicksand. And I need to get out.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

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DEATH, TAXES, AND ONLINE DATING

1/10/2015

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The idea for this blog actually came to me on New Year’s Eve. My husband had gone early to bed--a case of two martinis and enough grass-fed beef to put him into a food coma long before the bell tolled in 2015. I sat on the couch with my three stalwart companions, Phoebe, a 13 year old beagle, and Fiona and Denzel, my 8 and 4 year old Rhodesian Ridgebacks. I had a fire going, the television set on Times Square, and a glass of champagne in my hand.

The things that inspire me to write can be puzzling but the poke and prod for this blog was as straight forward as they come. I should mention here that I am a writer by profession, or so states my Amex card, if not the paltry royalty statements my agent handed me at Bochercon, a well-known mystery writers convention, with a whispered, “It’s not good news.” It hadn’t been good news for a few years now. More on that later.

My poke and prod that night came in a series of commercials, all dealing with the usual good soldiers of the season: Taxes, weight loss, and online dating. It was startling how they came in a wave, as if somewhere the starter pistol had gone off releasing the familiar themes. I actually texted my two adult children, both celebrating far away and on their own. Here’s my text:

As I watch the ubiquitous January weight loss and tax preparation commercials, New Year’s resolutions come to mind. Here’s mine: get healthy (read exercise, eat better, lose weight), sell a book (so I can pay taxes).

The writer in me tried to work in the online dating but the fact is I’ve been happily married for 30 years, so there you have it.

Finishing what was to be my last glass of alcohol for January--more on that as well--I felt buoyed by the text. I’d launched my intentions into the ether and, being the eternal optimist, I felt good. My response to the devil on my shoulder pointing out that I’d had the same resolutions every year and never quite made inroads was always the same: I fail until the year I make the change and then I succeed.

But this year, I wanted to make change a focus. I’d felt “stuck” for some time. I could blame it on hormones or my empty nest or a midlife crisis or all of the above but what I was going through somehow felt more organic. Was this something I was supposed to get through, this quicksand of personal inertia? Another life chrysalis to be shed? I’d been rushing forward for some many years from crisis to crisis: Book deadlines, aging parents, children with college applications. And then it all stopped. Or maybe I stopped. Yes. I think it was me. I felt suddenly too tired.

I've been feeling “too tired” for some years. And getting back to the idea that this, too, could be a stage in life, I again wonder about my personal inertia. I am 54 years old, adult children properly launched and with what was once a successful career on hold.

So back to this idea of change. I am a writer, so the next logical step seems to be to write about it. I’ve never been one to keep a journal, so maybe I need an audience to get started. But I should warn anyone reading along that I was a litigator before I worked as a writer so I will probably research the shit out of this. Things like, what is change? How can I quantify it? How will I know at year’s end that I’ve made lasting change? What do experts advise on the subject?

I’m not sure what size or shape these posts will take, but I am committing a year to the project. And then, I will assess.

This is my year of change. I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.

6 Comments

RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS

BRAIN YOGA

GOOOOOOOAL!

BURNING THE MIDNIGHT CANDLE

THAT DAMN ST. GERMAIN

DOWN THE GOOGLE RABBIT HOLE

EPIPHANY

WELCOME TO THE WOMB

DEATH, TAXES, AND ONLINE DATING

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