My Kid Turned 24 and I Feel...

I am not feeling any older than I did five short years ago. Not even ten years ago, maybe. I am in the same physical shape. A bit thinner actually (though I am not sure this is a good thing). Not as strong. Smarter, for sure.

“The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.” Madeleine L’Engle

My thoughts aren’t particularly those of a (little older than) middle-aged person. I do feel wiser after going around those blocks.

“Another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.” Margaret Atwood

So then, how in the world did I become a person who has a 24-year-old child?

I am convinced that most people do not grow up. We marry and dare to have children and call that growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old. We carry accumulation of years in our bodies, and on our faces but generally our real selves, the children inside, are innocent and shy as magnolias. Maya Angelou

Where did the time go? So imperceptibly, it moved, that I almost didn’t hear the whirr. 

“There is a certain part of all of us that lives outside of time.

Perhaps we become aware of our age only at exceptional moments and most of the time we are ageless.

Milan Kundera (Who is this guy? He is the author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being (good book/movie))

The speed is dizzying!

“Just remember when you’re over the hill, you begin to pick up speed.” Charles M. Schulz

Stop. Just stop.

“Do not wait for life. Do not long for it. Be aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now. “ Marcel Proust

In my morning prayers, I always ask for moments, minutes, entire days for which I am fully present. Living. Because “time and tide wait for no man” (Who said this? A quick google search gives credit to the poet Geoffrey Chaucer)

“None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.” Henry David Thoreau

I am desperately trying to maintain my zest for life. Be excited by things. Little things. Am I running out of time for new adventures? I desperately want to be interesting. Feel interesting. I still want “you” to think I am interesting. If nothing else.

Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been. Mark Twain

Sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see are dark circles and deep crow's feet.  Other times, I see the twenty or thirty year old looking at me. Many times I like what I see. Sometimes, when I’m tired, especially, I don’t. And I think to myself, “Where am I?” 

And I always notice the eyes. "Where is the crystal blue?".

“I may be a senior but so what? I’m still hot.” Betty White

She's funny, and I wish. 

Nature gives you the face you have at twenty; it is up to you to merit the face you have at fifty. Coco Chanel

Yep, my daughter turned 24 yesterday, and to think she believes she’s old!!!

First, I want to know how it happened, then why she didn't ask me if she could grow up so fast. 

And why don’t I feel old enough for that?

Just Write: Yoga and How Do You Take Up Space?

I have been intensely pensive lately. Probably too much so, if truth be told.

I derive questions, mostly about life, from a few sources.

One such place is yoga. That is, yoga taught by an intelligent, and thought provoking teacher.

Okay, okay! Some of you may think a yogi’s verbiage is a bunch of cheesy crap, and that their soothing, whisper-like intonation is fake. Depending on the teacher, or my mood, it can be. Distracts me, too.

Not today, though.

Anna, yogi extraordinaire and former professional ballet dancer, provided background as to why the postures, sequences and flow, would be just so, explaining her planning usually has something  to do with what she’s thinking about or struggling with or working on in her own life.

Today’s question: How do you take up space?

She didn’t tell us what to think, or even what she thought except to say she feels her space must be filled with movement. (Hint: This is NOT usually my case.) During our class we moved through several choreographed sequences, repeating each and every one at least three times to settle in, and get a rhythm She posed questions like: Is your space being filled by thoughts or movement? Are you constantly making small adjustments or are you static? Are you exploring your depths or resting?

I wasn’t necessarily thinking about my physical space the whole time, though mostly I was in those moments. I was concentrating on what I could physically do. How could I improve this posture? What felt loose? Tight? Strong? Weak?

My consistent goal in yoga is to stay present, in the moment, and prevent the drifting of thoughts to a place off my mat. Push everything out!

There weren’t expectations of answers, or anything, during Lotus pose or Warrior Two or Dancer. At that moment. She set the questions out there for us like “food for thought”, a whisper thought to take home in a doggie bag for later. 

It was an interesting exercise. Letting my mind touch lightly on the questions she posed as my body simultaneously moved through her queues for strenuous postures. The answers came fleetingly like the sweat that ran down my nose then dripped off it’s tip. My mind and body were transitioning from one thought/position to the next. 

I felt strong. I felt challenged. I felt successful. 

In the moment! On the mat. Fully present.

Of course, she was alluding to the bigger picture as well. Maybe even more so. Has to be because we were only in the sweat box for 60 minutes! As I walked home, however, the question marinated, and I started equating “space” with time. My thoughts drifted over to how I spend my time in the space I occupy. 

So how do I fill my space (off the mat)? Well that depends. I alternate between being proudly productive or happily lost in thought or extremely time wasting. With people I love, others I don’t know well, and the occasional stranger.

Who decides what is a “properly” filled space? Do I? Does He? Does someone else like my husband? 

These are just questions. Things I am thinking about today. Things I will probably think about tomorrow too unless I am posited questions from one of my “other” sources. I am all questions it seems with a smaller percentage of answers. But I enjoy thinking too much. Sometimes.

What I do know for sure is that I love yoga because it provides challenge, both mentally and physically. It is stimulating. It creates thinking time on and off the mat. And these things are (not uniquely) important to my well-being*. 

*(Editor’s Note: In an effort to additionally increase my well-being, I am currently ingesting a juice-like beverage I picked up at Whole Foods this morning. It is called Alternative Fuel whose label states, “We squeeze it fresh right in our store. Made With Fresh…celery, broccoli, parsley, cabbage, wheatgrass, lettuce, spinach, kale and cucumber.” To borrow a famous phrase from Lucille Ball, “Tastes just like candy!” YUMMERS!!!)

Remember Me and Diana Ross

newyorktheater.com

If you would have asked anyone back in the old days, say in my twenties, is Gina a spontaneous person? They would have replied, “Oh yeah! Hell, yes! She is!!!”

Being spontaneous seemed automatic, something I was compelled to be, and I valued it about myself. I was that, adventurous, and carefree, too.

Fast forward through my adulthood.

If you asked anyone now who has known me over the last twenty years, or so, that very same question, they would reply, “Well yes, sometimes she can be.”

What happened? Where did that person go? Why did she stop being that way?

There is a simple answer. She made some choices along the way.

There have been more “I wish I could…” “I would have liked to…” “Darn it, I missed the opportunity to…” than I can possibly count on my fingers and toes combined with yours. In my mind, I actively traded spontaneity to marry a fantastically fun and wonderful man, have two children, and raise them as best as we could. All noble and satisfying, yet intensely time consuming pursuits, marriage and childrearing, that I wouldn’t trade for the anything. I don't look back with any regret.

It's called compromise, which I also fondly labeled "you can’t have everything" syndrome.

And even now, with my children currently away at school, and the rather long leash my husband provides for me to pursue my personal interests, the opportunities for spontaneity don’t come along as regularly as they used to, should, or at least as often as I would like. 

That is until I found myself walking with a friend down the streets of Chicago’s theater district last week. Up on the giant, mesmerizing marquee of the historic Chicago Theater was:

[blink, blink, blink]

TONIGHT

DIANA ROSS

[blink, blink, blink]

“This is the first concert I EVER saw back in 19XX,” I wistfully reminisced. (Yeah, I’m not going to mention the year except to say I was in 8^th grade.)

“Let’s go. We should go. What do you have to do tonight anyway?” my friend immediately said.

“Nothing. I have nothing really to do tonight.”

So we pushed through the entusiastic crowd milling around the street front, slapped down our credit cards, and bought the last two best seats in the house. Only thing left to do was compose a text to “home” to explain where I was, and what I was doing. It went something like this:

“Guess what I’m doing tonight?”

“Going out to dinner with me?”

“NO! I’m going to see DIANA ROSS!!!”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I LOVE her!!!"

"I didn't know that."

"Of course, I do! I’ll send you pictures!”

So from the first row center in the balcony, I danced and sang at the top of my lungs without stopping because I knew all of her songs. I always had. She changed her outfit four times, which she always had.

And I longed for the concert to go on forever because I felt a little bit more like the real me than I had in a long time, if only for one night.

**************************

Some of my favorite songs:

 “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”, “Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand)”, “Theme from Mahogany (Do You Know Where You’re Going To)”, “Love Child”, “Upside Down”, “Love Hangover.”

"Remember Me"

Bye baby, see you around

Didn't I tell you I wouldn't hold you down

Take good care of yourself, y'hear

Don't let me hear about you shedding a tear

You're gonna make it

You're gonna take it

Remember me as a sunny day

That you once had, along the way

Didn't I inspire you a little higher

Remember me as a funny clown

That made you laugh when you were down

Didn't I boy, didn't I boy

Remember me as a big balloon

At a carnaval that ended too soon

Remember me as a breath of spring
Remember me as a good thing

Just Write: Why Am I Not?

Every morning when I wake up, I meditate (horizontally) for several minutes thinking about the same things, and making mostly the same intentions.

Live today better than yesterday (extremely general, I know). Leap on opportunities that allow acts of kindness, but keep them to myself. Be more attentive to my loved ones. Write something. Anything. Just write.

Every morning I walk into town for coffee, assess how I’m feeling, and think about writing. Ideas spring forth most prevalently after the first few sips, but when I get back home I sit here. I sit here just like I am today consumed by meaningless distractions like web surfing through Facebook, Goodreads, my blog roll, etc. completely avoiding where my writing actually takes place, which is the desktop computer or my college ruled notebook both located in the study.

They pile on cumulatively, the days, becoming just another one without productive keystrokes or blue ink on my middle finger; thoughts and words that never make it to paper or the big, white screen.

Every day I see the proof, which is directly left of these exact words (my post activity). Although, I delude everyone including myself by saying I could be writing something bigger, more substantial that doesn’t include words in this space. It is sadly not so.

Like you, I get pulled and distracted into another compartment of my life, which is fine and wonderful (sometimes), but the feeling lingers. Sometimes all day. A dull ache sits on my chest like a pretty substantial paperweight, not disruptive but a constant reminder.

And every day I feel the same sense of disappointment in a “groundhog day” kind of way.  My lack of self-discipline and creativity, je ne sais quoi (not the good kind), haunts me the rest of the day.

Day-after-day I think, “Why am I not doing something that provides me with such intense fulfillment? Am I afraid?”

*********************

My feelings this moment, and written for Just Write.

When Kids Text On Your Behalf!

So I made it two days!

I just have to write (been writing a bazillion words in the last two days for me, just not here).

And sometimes I just have to share…when things strike me but especially my funny bone and this had us rolling on the floor, literally, at the end of the night when discovered.

A lovely friend invited me to dinner last night knowing I was alone. She thoroughly tempted me with her delicious fish tacos (fresh lake bass). I know she thought I’d say “no”, which I actually considered doing for sure, but knew she could hook me with a favorite meal. Dangling good food is a sure fire why to get me to do something.

As a guest, I refuse to just sit tight when someone is working so hard in the kitchen, especially for me, so I insisted that I help because if someone ever asks me while I’m preparing a meal, I always find something to delegate. Tonight, I got to heat up rice and beans (Woo Hoo!).

It was during last minute preparations that my phone “quacked” (and I’d like to know who set it’s tone to do that…not me!). The text was from my darling 21 year old daughter who I hadn’t seen in a week.

Being busy in the kitchen, I asked her best friend, daughter of the lovely dinner lady, to answer on behalf of me. As me!

This is the conversation my daughter thought she was having WITH ME while out for dinner with her father…

(That's a martini glass, a swami, and two money bags)

I suppose, if it were truly true, he should be concerned. He knows me inside and out and the possibility of such cavalier and spontaneous behavior really makes his very practical head spin.

Have you ever seen the movie “Lost In America” with Albert Brooks and Julie Hagerty (a movie that makes us laugh every time)? Here’s a small snippet of the plot!

“David and Linda Howard are typical 1980s yuppies in Los Angeles who are fed up with their lifestyle. He works in an advertising agency and she for a department store. But after he fails to receive a promotion he was counting on and is asked to transfer to the firm's New York office instead, David angrily insults his boss and is fired. He coaxes his wife to quit her job as well and seek a new adventure.

The Howards decide to liquidate their assets and drop out, "like in Easy Rider", heading out to see the country in a Winnebago recreational vehicle. They leave L.A. with "nest egg", but don't get very far. The plan goes awry when Linda loses nearly all their cash playing roulette at the Desert Inn Casino in Las Vegas.

I think MY guy was thinking this. He should know better, however, because I’m not a gambler…with money, that is!!!

LOOK GREAT NAKED!

Do you sometimes feel as if the world is conspiring against you? That it sends out the big guns, even Brooklyn Decker, to remind you of what you cannot do?

I swear she was placed in the changing room of the MRI department to taunt me. I didn’t even have to rearrange the magazines to see her. She was just there... perfectly airbrushed, beautiful curves and all!

 Burn Mega Calories – Would love to but can’t!

Build Lean Muscle- Had them and want them back!

Sculpt Sexy Curves- Love them and always a goal!

Yes, indeed! I’ve been complaining, A LOT, about not being able to move, exercise, burn off steam, and everything that’s awesome and true about intense exercise. It helps me tremendously but particularly with my attitude and state of mind. It chills me out and when those endorphins kick in, I’m the happiest girl in the world. Just ask my family!

If you’ve been reading here since I started or even a month ago, you know I tend to talk about exercise more than a little bit. I love it! I love activity of any kind; bike riding, boxing, running, cross training, swimming. I love rope workouts. I love doing it with my friends. I love the sense of accomplishment; being hot and sweaty from it’s intensity. But mostly, I love what it has given my body and my mind…a very healthy, fit look and loads of clarity.

I MISS IT!

And now SHE turns up to remind me of what I can’t do. Again, I’m not complaining but I'm certainly whining just short of pitching a fit. I want that part of my life back. My old life! And as Veruca Salt from “Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory” says, “I want it NOW!!!”

Here’s my biggest question. It is rhetorical! I know the answer but I’m refusing to let it make sense at the moment.

How can you go from being in arguably the best physical shape in recent memory, working out hard since the beginning of December, to completely out of shape in a mere three weeks? Something is definitely wrong with this equation.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying I was the skinniest I’ve ever been, because I wasn’t. I was very healthy and very fit. I was embracing my curves and my muscle tone. I was feeling great and clothes were slipping on smoothly. I worked hard for that!

Now, I just feel scrawny. I’m not a small person in stature but I feel little, or littler, physically and mentally. Pants are falling off of me and not in a “Hey, I look good” or “You can never be too skinny or rich”, kind of way. It doesn’t look healthy at all and I don’t like it one bit.

Seeing that magazine this afternoon reminded me of what I already knew. It’s about being healthy, strong and sturdy, and I can be that way again, just not today.

Tomorrow, I can begin to change that. Why? Because I love strength. I'm very attracted to it physically, mentally and emotionally; in myself and in others. 


So, I’m going to walk down the road and hand deliver a thank you note for starters. I’m thinking there’s nothing wrong with holding some straight armed planks and doing push ups if my shoulder can handle it. I can throw in some stationary lunges if I’m feeling chipper. And that's how I’ll start building my strength back, beginning tomorrow. 

And yes, I did lift the magazine from the waiting room table. I have to go back for results at the end of the week, so I’ll have the opportunity to return it!

But first I want to learn how to “Be Happier Every Day”, “Flat Belly Secrets” and “Healthy, Yummy Bikini Friendly Ideas”.

Right now, I’ve had as much of this day as I can handle. I’m placing Brooklyn Decker on the pillow next to me and we are going to take a nap together. In a platonic way, of course ;-)

2.) Tell us about the last thing you complained about. How was the issue resolved?

Cheers To Being Lucky; One Out of One Hundred

I wasn’t going to write about this.

Then I was and then I wasn’t.

Today, I am. It’s been two weeks.

And I don’t know why I’m crying but I am. It’s silly really; the crying, because I’m okay and I will be okay. I guess I was scared. Scared that it happened and, now, scared to be writing about it. I have no idea why.

I didn’t want anyone to know at first but news travels fast. I thought it was too personal; too personal for me to share about myself, on my blog. That’s me being stupid. God, I dislike that word (my kids used to think it was the other “S” swear after shut up; both words weren’t allowed in our house).

I write about all sorts of silly nonsense that affects me. Why wouldn’t I write about this too?

So two weeks ago today I dove into the lake. I dove right off the end of the pier like I always have for the last 26 years, in exactly the same way.

However, there WAS a difference; a big difference. And I knew it. I knew it consciously, for sure, but it obviously didn’t register subconsciously at the particular moment of my dive after a long run on a very hot afternoon. Due to severe lack of rain, the lake level was down 2 feet (now even more).

When the typical depth at pier’s end is 5 ½ feet but now 3 ½ feet (or less), you encounter a problem when you dive in. Let’s just say that your head meets the ground at a faster rate than you could ever expect (velocity in Physics).

I broke my neck, three cervical vertebrae (one shattered, two fractured), and tore all it’s ligaments. Two surgeries and a week in ICU gave me plenty of time to reflect. I didn’t encounter a doctor, nurse or a single person that didn’t remind me how very lucky I was. My neurosurgeon mentioned, as he kept wiggling my toes, that out of 100 people with my injuries, 99 end up paralyzed in some form or fashion but most often quadriplegic. Well, that caught my attention real quick.

I’m on the mend, returning to a sense of normalcy (with lots of pharmaceutical help), but slowly it goes. I can’t do much but sit around. My fingers work; I thank God for that, as does my mind. I just haven’t felt like doing a lot until last night when my mind’s fire was stoked with red glowing ember and my fingers sprouted wings to fly. The old me returning? I hope so!

To say I’m looking at life through different glasses these last two weeks is an understatement. I’m changed. The people around me are too. Life is fragile as is its quality.

I’m living my life for today. Being in the present. Worrying about tomorrow when it gets here because there’s enough going on in my life today. I won’t put off the things I’ve been longing to do if I can help it. I must say the things I’ve wanted to say to all those around me but mostly to those important to me.  I’ll keep striving for genuine and sincere. Continue looking for the simple things, because they often make me the happiest.

I just might not have the opportunity tomorrow. Or even one moment from now. This I’ve learned.

Just Write