5K

Plenty of sleep? Check.
Protein for breakfast? Check.
Mental determination? Double check.

I awoke this morning a little before 7am to get ready for my very first 5K run. A bit intimidated and unsure about how this experience would turn out, but I was most excited to see how far I've come in the last 13 months....

You see, I have never been athletic or into fitness...not really. I didn't regularly exercise until I was in college and graduate school. Even then, it wasn't something I made an absolute priority. I was more concerned with weight loss back then; it was my only motivation.

My whole life I have struggled with weight issues and so I have always associated exercise as a necessary 'evil' towards reaching the physical ideal. I would do some cardio to 'get it out of the way' and move on to the next thing on my 'to do' list. Exercise wasn't a mindful activity or something pleasant I looked forward to doing.

It wasn't until January 2010 that I made a stronger commitment...to that of fitness. While I still would like to lose weight (and have been/still am), I have learned these last 13 months that being healthy and having strong muscles is more important than what the numbers tell me when I step on a scale. I have learned so many things since I started going to a gym and working with a trainer....plyometrics (strength training), weight training, different kinds of dance, how to push myself a little harder each time so I'm always tricking my body/prevent from hitting a plateau, and the importance of stretching. And muscle weighs more than fat, don't forget! Pay attention to how your clothes feel as you lose inches of body fat, not water weight!

Sometimes I go running outside in my neighborhood or on the treadmills in the gym, but I've never done a race of any sort. I always thought that was just for 'real runners'.....which is why I was a bit nervous and intimidated about my first 5K today. And I ended up totally rocking it! Who knew!

I arrived early so that I could get a parking spot since I heard there were 3,000 people expected to be participating. With my fingers crossed for the sky to be rain and wind free, I walked onto the path of the lake searching for signs of the 'start' area. I didn't see any signs.

As I was listening to my ipod and holding a banana in my right hand, I saw out of the corner of my eye this pigtailed young woman wearing a blue Jingle Bell Run tshirt waving her hands at me. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and approached her. She saw that I was wearing a Valentine's Day Dash Love 'Em or Leave 'Em shirt and thought maybe I knew where we were supposed to go, but I didn't know either. We chatted briefly and heard from someone else that the registration area was at the boathouse, which was probably 1.5 miles away from where we were standing on Green Lake. It was 45 minutes before race time, so I leisurely walked as I ate my banana and headed towards the 'start' area. Fortunately, the weather was great....in the 40's and partly sunny, no wind.

15 minutes prior to start time, I was waiting in line for the women's restroom and this woman behind me started talking with me for a few minutes. She looked to be in her early 50's and mentioned this was her first race. "My daughter runs marathons, but she couldn't be here today because she has to take care of her 3 year old son." I told her it was my first race as well. She went on to tell me how she's been in a relationship that she's not sure whether to stay in or leave. "So this race is kinda symbolic for you?" I inquired. "Well, good luck!," I added.

"You too!" she said.

I've wondered how in races everyone can start at the same time when not everyone is near the starting line. I found out today. There were different mile markers of where to stand, depending on how fast you think you can run in minutes per mile. It started with 6-7 minutes and went all the way up to 13. I'm not a fast runner, so I went to the 13 minute marker. I honestly didn't care about being fast. Endurance was my main focus. For me, it was more important to run at a moderate pace and not get tired. I was determined to not walk AT ALL...and I didn't! (I usually have to stop and walk at some point when I'm running by myself)

What I liked about this race was that there were people of all ages and fitness levels. It took away the intimidation factor. I suddenly felt I belonged there, that I could do it successfully. And I did! I was in some kind of 'zone' and it felt amazing. I had my music going and it was as if time stopped...or either I felt no sense of time as I ran. It felt like I just started running and before I knew it, I was done (34:04...not bad for a first timer!). Didn't feel long at all, or even hard. It's true that 90% of it is mental. With that said, I can't wait for the next race.

Making fitness a lifestyle choice has had me reinvent myself in ways I could never fathom before, not to mention it's shown me how if you really set your mind to accomplishing something you CAN do it!!!

L

L,

Every once in awhile, I miss you. Today is one of those days.

Sure, I never missed waiting for you to pick me up, never miss being left wondering if you stood me up or waiting for an explanation in those moments you arrived interminably late when I was freezing my ass off on your platforms.

Nor do I miss how you smelled of stale urine, or finding used up drug needles you carelessly left behind on the seats near the west side.

I don't miss your redundant announcements or your empty promises to be more reliable, more inviting.

I don't miss how, because of you, I was brought face to face with some likely creepy criminals that could have harmed me but for whatever reason didn't.

But I miss the views you gave me from your windows.....the sunsets, the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the skyscrapers, a freshly fallen snow that leaves behind an almost silent purity.

I miss how you entertained me with your colorful characters, gave me time to collect my thoughts or read, and brought out the adventurous side in me.

I miss the places we would go, the people who tagged along for all those rides, and how there was always an element of unpredictability with you.

You were the first one I met, and though I was a bit rusty at the introductions, you became a comfort and familiarity....amidst the arduous demands of grad school, late nights out with fun friends, men who have come and gone, and the hardest job of my life before the crack of dawn.

You were there, a witness to the memories. Sometimes even my muse.

You're like a lover I don't want to miss because of my tendency to dismiss all those idiosyncrasies that made you a jerk.

But L, once in awhile,

I can't help myself from thinking about you like this, longing for more bittersweet experiences together.

Anti-NYR

I've always loathed the stereotypical New Year's Resolutions, what I consider a last ditch (or first ditch?) effort for most individuals to convince themselves that they are more goal-driven and determined than they actually are the other 3/4 of the year. You know the people I'm talking about.....the ones who vow to join a gym and boast about how they're going to lose weight and/or buff up in the next 6-12 months.

January at the gym is hell because of those jerks, taking up extra space in what used to be your parking spot and your workout space inside the gym. January is the month where everyone appears to be motivated, inspired, and striving for their utmost desires. Sliding into February, it is the rest of us that remain. Thankfully. I can once again park in a convenient spot and not have to push my way through the New Year's Resolution dropouts. Although I mock NYRD, I am thrilled they are so predictable because it gives me more motivation and incentive to relentlessly pursue my anti-NYR goals with reckless abandon. All. Year. Long.

Sure, some goals might be easier and/or more fun (ie, feel less like "goals" and more like wants/mere desires), but it is what keeps me going the whole year. It's like a competition, me against myself....maybe with a few friends along the way. Here's a taste of what I would like to accomplish, kick ass at, enjoy, savor, get overly excited about, be, do, see, hear, taste, touch, and any other insanely ridiculous description for what I'd like to experience this year. In no particular order...


1. Write here more regularly.
2. Go on photography adventures, particularly exploring sights with other fun and adventure seeking photographers.
3. Run my very first 5K in February!
4. Read workbook on starting my own private practice and try some of the suggestions offered in the book.
5. Continue sculpting into a leaner, fit body (including dropping at least two clothing sizes by the end of 2011).
6. Visit friends in Chicago for a week in March.
7. Meet/visit Josh in Florida in May.
8. Refrain from using a credit card at all this year and decrease credit card debt/bill.
9. Renew passport and go to Canada with friends.
10. Warrior Dash in July!
11. Trip to Mt. St. Helens
12. Trip to the Portland coast
13. Social time with people (ie, spend less time alone/doing things by myself)
14. Be a confident, fun "player" if I must continue online dating. haha
15. Go camping and/or hiking at Olympic National (Hoh) Rainforest.

If you weren't you

I kept thinking about you, that one conversation sinking in my mind as I went through the motions of my day.

I played the what-could-have-beens and what-ifs in my head.

What if you weren't you?

What if all the shitty things that happened to you made you this endearing and perfectly flawed person?

You're the one that pisses me off (but not for long) and drives me crazy (always), the one that appreciates intellectual stimulation, the one with whom I enjoy witty banter, the one who makes me laugh, and you're the one I wish could see yourself as I see you.

Half the time I don't understand you, can't figure you out.

Drawn to your battle scars, made privy to your inner sanctum....

You never bore me. I come back for more, as do you with me...for the same reasons?

And in those moments where I've resigned myself to taking your words at face value, you show that rare softer side.

I like you most when you're raw and real in all your messed up, beautiful glory.

The side you hide is the one that I most want to see, and I savor it like it's a present you've saved just for me....or so I tell myself as I smile and think about all those things you just said.

Things on the precipice of your thoughts, your tongue, your heart. You.

The you I wouldn't know, wouldn't see, wouldn't admire

...if you weren't you.

What determines where we live?

From birth to 11 years of age, I lived in New Hampshire. My stepdad at the time then moved us to Chesapeake, Virginia because of his job; I spent 5th-7th grade in this state. Then my stepfather got a more lucrative job offer, which had us move to the Houston, Texas area.

I went to high school in a snobby, boring suburb of Houston, spent my freshman year of college at Univ. of South Florida in Tampa (my father had resided in Florida since I was about 3 years old), went back to aforementioned suburb for a year at the community college because it was cheaper, then transferred to Texas State University in the hill country (near Austin, TX) to finish my last two years of college with a BA degree. In total, I spent 7 years in Texas and a one year stint in Florida. After college, I didn't know what the hell to do with myself. Graduate school had not been on my priority list. At the time, I had this idealistic notion that the world was my oyster and I would land a full-time job that would allow me to utilize my BA in Psych degree.

My mom and stepdad had divorced. My mom had met someone else (now my current stepdad) and they (along with my brother A.) had moved to Reno, Nevada shortly before I graduated college in Dec. 2000. Since I had no family around in Texas anymore (and never cared much for the state, sans the liberal area of Austin), I had no desire to stay there. I had no money though, so I decided to move in with my family in Reno until I could land on my feet. There were no professional jobs for me and I felt stuck. As much as I loved the west coast and having the security/support of family, I didn't want to live there. It didn't feel like me, didn't feel like "home" or a place I could thrive. I started thinking about teaching English in a foreign country, maybe do the Peace Corps. I wanted to do something different, life changing, adventurous, or meaningful. I was so conflicted and overwhelmed by the possibilities. During this time of me trying to figure things out, my mom and stepdad weren't doing well financially (to put it mildly).

For a brief time (June 2001 to Dec 2001), I moved to Kentucky (where my stepdad is from) with my mom, stepdad, and brother A; things only got worse. I felt like I was on the threshold of hell. The most awful state I've ever painstakingly experienced....and to think I was only there for 6 months!

Perhaps though it was being stuck in that horrible environment that propelled me to something significantly better. It was then that I decided I needed to go to graduate school. It was my only chance for a greater life. I started looking for schools via online searches. I thought about Hawaii....seemed like paradise, but also too expensive and maybe too far/isolated from everyone else. I considered Colorado and San Francisco.

Then I stumbled upon Chicago, Illinois. A city and state I had never been, a place that had never entered into my mind until the day I came across a graduate school webpage. A few weeks after Sept. 11, 2001, I was attending an interview with the head of the marriage and family counseling program at Adler in downtown Chicago....the last part of the application process I had to complete. I was accepted. And I was scared shitless. I had never lived in a city so huge...and not knowing ANYONE. But I did it. I wanted opportunities and most of all (even though it may have been an unconscious desire at the time) I wanted to know what my life would be like with no one telling me what to do or influencing my decisions. Whatever happened in my life, it would be entirely of my own making and of my own volition....and that's exactly what happened, in various aspects of my life. I lived there from December 2001 to March 2008.

As much as I loved Chicago, I was getting that "stuck" feeling I experienced seven years prior. Chicago was too cold, too fast paced. It was fun for my 20's, but I wanted a different atmosphere and more opportunities as I entered my 30's. The west coast appealed to me....and when I found out my mom and a good friend of mine were interested in moving to Seattle, WA around the same time I was contemplating a move, I made the decision that's where I was going to go. Again, I had never been to Seattle...nor the state of Washington. I figured my bold move to Chicago served me well in the overall scheme of things, so surely WA would do the same. (I moved to Seattle in 2008, where I still currently reside.)

But what if each moving decision isn't comparable to the others?

As I reflect (and share with you here) on the various moves I've made throughout my life, I find myself wondering what drives us to move to a particular place....and furthermore, are those drives very different depending on our age and experiences we've had thus far?

How often is it about (seemingly) necessity vs. desire? How much does our emotional state at a certain point in our lives influence our decision making (ie, a belief or feeling that a move will make our lives happier, better, or more fulfilling in some way...even if this is a fallacy in hindsight)?

Do risk takers move more? Do some people hate where they live, but stay in the same area their whole lives simply because of convenience and proximity to family, friends,etc? How much do political leanings and economic factors effect whether to move (and where)? Culture? Weather? Population size? The "personality" and/or intelligence of a region? Educational and employment opportunities? Crime rates?

With so many factors to consider, which ones become the priorities towards a decision?

I realize there's no one particular answer, as every individual is unique in regard to life experiences and values. This is just something I ponder and find sociologically fascinating.

2010 compilation

Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, split seconds. Years.

This year,

of Katie.

2010, a compilation of memorable moments and realizations:

Joined a gym and learned SO MUCH about fitness.

Lost 15-20 lbs and went down 2 clothing sizes

Realized I'm stronger (mentally and physically) than I tend to give myself credit for....

Pushed myself beyond my comfort zone....constantly, neverendingly

Took up a fun dance class that became a weekly addiction

Went snow tubing in the mountains

Visited friends in Chicago

Visited friends in Texas, including ones I had not seen in 11 years!

Survived getting sucked into a scary river current while floating the Comal with Heather

Curiously and voyeuristically attended SEAF

Had many a happy hour and bonding moments with SMH coworkers

Experienced a bonfire in the rain

Recruited more than a few friends and family to start watching my favorite show of all time (yes, I'm a nerd like that)

Had a brief stint in Florida to celebrate my Dad's retirement

Sun bathed my summer away at Alki Beach and Golden Gardens

Got hit on by a cowgirl while out dancing with June and Kristen, on a platform might I add (June: "Looks like you've made a friend" hahaha)

Expanded my knowledge of photography and collection of camera/photography gear

Became grateful for regular massages. How did I ever live without them before this year?!

Spent Thanksgiving with my Dad, brother, and stepmom for the first time in years

Survived two rounds of layoffs at work

Met new people

Got to know wonderful (and not so new) people even more

Helped host a friend's baby shower (which I've never done before), which turned out lovely.

Became more confident and less self-critical

Became disconnected from some individuals, became more closely connected to others

Surprised myself by reading books I didn't think I'd like

Played an INSANE amount of FB Scrabble games and improved my skills

Learned who and what I don't want in my life, as well as what I do want

Survived the dating battlefield that is online dating

Drove in snow for the first time

Searched for my writer's muse.....in hiding, but not dead. (*sigh of relief*)

2010?

Not a bad year. Not a bad year at all.

"An interesting life"

While visiting my dad and stepmom over Thanksgiving, my stepmom said something about how I've had "an interesting life." I can't remember what we were talking about that led up to that comment, but it was a nice compliment to get from her. I couldn't help, however, being both sad and happy at the same time. Happy that I've had some modicum of cool stuff to have experienced and tell stories about..... yet sad that the juicy, fascinating opportunities/experiences seem to be decreasing. My life has become....boring. When did that happen? I'm starting to wonder if this is why I rarely write anymore. Nothing intriguing or inspiring to write about.

When I was in my 20's, the world felt like my oyster. I was scared shitless when I moved to Chicago, but it was a pivotal turning point in my life....the Katie that took risks, adventures, and pushed beyond her comfort zone. I met people at school, at work, randomly online, randomly in coffee shops or bars, and through friends of friends. It felt effortless. I worked at a bookstore that included getting to work book signing/celebrity events. I worked at a methadone clinic helping hardcore heroin addicts try to overcome their nasty addictions. Through these experiences, I found myself always thinking about something and having a constant craving to write about experiences, ideas. There was a time I was writing daily. I had something to say on a regular basis, sometimes it was even inspiring or thought provoking.

What I don't understand is how different my life feels a decade later. It depresses me. Mainly because I feel like I'm in a world of neither here nor there. There's a part of me that loves the fun I had in my 20's, yet has different interests and priorities than I did back then. At the same time, I look around me and the majority of my family and friends are married (and now with children). I'm struggling to find meaningfulness in my life outside of work. The weekends come and go, most of which I spend by myself. No one really calls me or genuinely shows an interest in hearing what's on my mind (and there's SO much on my mind, if people only knew). Even when I spend time with others, most times I don't feel like they really see or hear me. It's more what I can do for them. It's hard to find someone who will genuinely listen, someone who really wants to know me on a genuine and deeper level. I feel completely disconnected from any intimate relationships.

I've never been so conscious of my singlehood as I am in my 30's. I am starting to hate being alone all the time. I am lonely. My birthday is in a few weeks and I'm not even looking forward to it....

When is it going to be my turn? Will it ever be my turn? I really don't understand. I'm pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. I'm pretty. I'm smart. I'm independent. I'm kind and caring. I'm witty. I'm friendly. Granted my life feels boring at the moment, but I blame this pretty much on the fact that Seattle makes it difficult for me to be the kind of social butterfly I was able to effortlessly be in Chicago. I wish I knew what to do to make my life interesting again. Do I need to move back to Chicago to get it back?!

I know I can't change anyone except myself. I'm just melancholy that I've tried so hard with making changes in my life this year and there's no one in this city with whom I can share it (friends and/or boyfriend).

I miss the feeling of being special to someone. I also miss the feeling of someone really wanting to know what I think about something. I'm still the ever intellectually curious person who just needs some inspiration and very much needs her 'interesting life' back.....

You three with me

Relentless yet futile are my efforts, I hope you will one day see
The effect you men have on me when I go out of my way to be

....the parent, roles reversed
Will it always be this way?
Is awareness enough or am I truly cursed?
I yearn for the day
It doesn't feel rehearsed

....the friend, years pass and I still can't figure out
Why I care as much as I do
The scare only gave me more doubt
Made it quite clear to you
I'm your friend to the end...that's what I'm about
But what you feel for me I haven't a clue.

....the one for you, you're my ideal
Wish I could turn back time
If we'd met years before now, it could have been real
Friends and lovers, a passion sublime
Instead I feel shitty for wanting to steal
Your heart's not mine...feels like an emotional crime
But can I heal?

You three with me.

You three with me.

Therapist to therapy?

Every so often (increasingly so lately) I contemplate whether to seek a therapist and start my own process of psychotherapy, especially the more I talk to my my coworkers about it (one of which told me today that every therapist should/would greatly benefit from having their own therapy). The more questions that flood my mind, however, the longer it takes me to make a decision....

I've been in therapy, but not since I've actually become a therapist myself. I've often wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of proverbial couch/chair, wondered mainly if it would feel any different or better than my experiences as the client throughout my childhood and adolescence. I vaguely remember my mom taking me to see a counselor when I was between 8-10 years old. Looking back, I don't remember what I talked about with the counselor....but I do remember feeling comfortable and emotionally safe in the therapist's office.

I don't think I saw another psychotherapist again until I was in my late teens...a hypnotherapist actually. I think that was a one-time visit...hypnosis to help me work through a traumatic experience from my childhood that was still bothering me. I was skeptical at first, but it was quite powerful and helpful.

There was also family counseling in my teens and a few times in my early 20's, with my parents and stepparents. I absolutely loathed the family counseling sessions. I always felt more angry and frustrated after a family therapy session than I ever did before stepping into the therapist's office. I never felt heard or understood. I was the 'scapegoat.' It was like one big bitchfest, going around in circles arguing with no resolution.

I had my share of shitty therapy experiences (ie, family counseling) and yet instead of turning me off to therapy, it steered me in the direction (ie, MA degree in Marriage and Family Counseling) of wanting to help people with the very issue no one could help me (in an intelligent and compassionate way) during those years. I remember one time a therapist even subtly questioned my sexual orientation simply because I wasn't dating anyone. Really?!

I've always been one (from a very early age) to overanalyze, question everything, reflect, stretch myself to learn/grow and aim for self-awareness...to reach my full potential. Fortunately for my nerdy and curious personality, I've become my own therapist in some ways by reading things or pushing beyond my comfort zone with situations that are conducive to awareness....to change things about myself that are keeping me stuck. Most of the time this has been tremendously beneficial to me. With where I'm at in my life right now though, I wonder if I need more than that.

Not too long ago I asked one of my clients how she would know when she was done with therapy (ie, how would she know that she was better/reached her potential and thus not need therapy anymore). Her response? "When I no longer need to ask a question that I wouldn't ask a friend." There was something I found interesting and true about that response. I find myself contemplating this, yet on the other end....do I need therapy because I have questions that I can't ask (and get insights/solutions from about my problem) a friend? Maybe. Do I have a need to divulge some issues that are troubling me on a regular basis that I can't figure out how to change? Absolutely.

I have made positive changes in myself this year of which I'm proud and confident. A part of me wants to go even further with this possibility of therapy, yet another part of me is hesitant. What if no matter how much self-awareness I have and how much effort I put in to change my men/relationship/heartache challenges....and I'm still in the same boat (single and alone) as I am now?

My biggest concern is disappointment....disappointment that perseverance won't bring me any further to a better place than not trying.

Is it better to try therapy with the possibility of no positive tangible results? Or is it better to keep questioning things and doing the best you can with no help from anyone (ie, no therapist) other than your own self-improvement sensibilities?

Hmmm. Decisions, decisions (says the therapist to herself)....

The influx of change

It's one thing to hear cliches about change (ie, "The only constant is change," "We are creatures of comfort/no one really likes change" or "Even positive/exciting changes can be scary")....but it's far more difficult to embrace when you're actually living and breathing said change (and multiple changes at that!) in your day to day life. I have found myself coming up with my own 'mantras' to help me cope (see below), as there have been numerous changes going on at my workplace in the span of one month's time!

Here's 'a taste' of the changes: Significant increase in caseload, less time to see clients more frequently for counseling because there's too many clients to juggle, program manager and supervisor retired, no boss yet, a colleague left/took a new job, a new outside consultant to do more intensive case conceptualization/supervision with us therapists, and a restructuring of counseling programs (ie, program I'm in will be split into two programs and this includes not working with a few of my coworkers anymore once the split officially happens). I can't remember a time I have ever felt this many huge changes going on simultaneously.

We (human beings) resist change so much, sometimes even going so far into denial as to believe "People don't change" or "As much as things change, they stay the same." While this can certainly apply, I see more change than I do stagnancy. Granted, it's not always HUGE changes like the aforementioned work transitions I just mentioned that are going on in my life....but change is there if you have a keen awareness to pick up on the subtleties.

There's the "it happened so suddenly!" changes, the "I see it slowly coming, so I'm going to try and prepare for it" changes, the "I'm ready to/will change this....but not change that just yet" changes, and the "I know things are going to change, but I don't want to think about it right now" changes. Even feeling "stuck" or "resistant" is just a way to help give us more time to think about it. Maybe it's not about being lazy, fearful, or not wanting to change. Given that change is inevitable, sometimes we just need that 'brainstorming' time or time to 'just be' in the moment. Or time to reflect on how change will create a new life, identity, or way of being.

Interestingly, going through change oneself can also impact the dynamic between what you 'role model' to others (ie, practice what you preach....for me it's in the form of my being a great, effective therapist with my clients). In a weird way, the work changes have brought me 'closer' to my clients....an understanding and compassion for their own anxiety about how to work through stuff and their process of change, as well as having compassion for myself as I practice grounding myself and helping them by also helping myself from a place of peaceful calm.

What else helps get me through the influx of change? Every day one or more of the following statements come to my mind:

"One day at a time."
"Breathe"(followed by me taking in deep breaths)
"This will get easier/won't last forever."
"Easy does it."
"Just do what you can; there's no rush to do everything today."
"Take pleasure and gratitude in the simple things that make you laugh, smile, and that give you the endurance to keep going during this hard stuff."
"Rest and slow down if you're tired."
"Remember, you are making a difference with the work you do...even if the intensity of your therapy work with trauma survivors is rarely acknowledged/seemingly appreciated."
"Self care, self care, self care."

I also keep coming back to this amazing quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson:
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."

Absolutely.

The psychology of dreams

Dreams have long fascinated me. I remember in my pre to early teen years, I had this recurring dream about being inside of a building (usually a grocery/convenience store and one time it was a car dealership) and knowing that it was about to get robbed. It wasn't a recurring dream in the sense that it was the same exact dream, but more so the same theme/feelings I felt and similiar subjects/scenarios going on. It still piques my curiosity to this day what those dreams were about. If only I had kept a journal and recorded what was going on with me at the time, maybe I could have truly analyzed what those recurring dreams were all about. (They were the only recurring dreams I have had in my lifetime thus far, hence why I wish I could figure out the meaning, haha)

I've been pondering dreams quite a bit in the past few weeks, particularly after having a dream about a friend of mine. There were actually several random people (including a few other friends) in the dream, but what stood out to me was my friend Scott. In "real" life he has short hair and is pretty much a tshirt and jeans kinda guy. In this particular dream, he had long bushy spiral curled hair that extended down to his waist. He had 60's style/psychedelic spectacles on and looked like a hippie character out of the movie "Almost Famous." In the dream I remember thinking, "Is that Scott?! That guy doesn't look like Scott....but I know it's him because I recognize his face is the same." The only thing that would make that moment more perfect is if I could somehow photograph the 'scene.' How awesome would it be to be able to actually record our dreams (whether as a 'movie' or a photograph)?! Who knows, the way technology is progressing....maybe one day it will be a reality!

I told my friend about this dream and from there a conversation ensued about the unique aspects of dreams. Dreams that later give you those deja vu moments in waking life....dreaming from different angles/perspectives (like flying in dreams, dreaming in first person vs. third person, or dreaming from the perspective of an animal).

Before learning more about the intricacies of dreams in some of my grad school classes, I had not realized just how many possibilities there are for what a dream can actually 'look like.' For instance, some people are more apt to dream in black and white (particularly those serving in the military or people who have to tendency to think in a linear fashion) than color. Then there are those who dream in a language different from their waking life.

It also didn't occur to me until now that not everyone dreams from the first person. I've never seen myself in a dream because I'm either there "participating" in the dream (feeling like the dream is actually 'real life') or it feels like I'm watching scenes from a movie with other people in my dream in which I'm not "there." It makes me wonder how many people dream from the third person. What's that like?

Aloneness and the 'invisible'

Loneliness and aloneness may not necessarily go hand in hand. You can be alone and content. You can also be lonely and disappointed in a room full of others...or in a particular relationship. I don't know about anyone else, but when I was younger (and less wise than I am now) I falsely believed that the opposite of aloneness was the key to love and happiness....that in togetherness there could be no loneliness. So why is it that as an adult I see more loneliness connected to relationships than to being alone? Is it because society wants us to hold on to these skewed beliefs and keep us dependent on relationships to falsely 'fulfill' our wants and needs? I partially think so. But to what extent are our wants and needs truly being met when it comes to relationships vs. in aloneness?

The media, the government, religious dogma, and other social institutions indoctrinate us into believing that you cannot do it (ie, live your life) alone....and if you do, it will be a long and difficult ("lonely") road. As someone who lives her life 'alone,' I can attest it can be more difficult in some ways....BUT I also must add that I feel less loneliness by myself than I feel when interacting with or having relationships with others. It may sound strange, but the loneliness I feel when I'm in some way 'invisible' to a friend, family member, lover, or colleague is incredibly stronger than any kind of loneliness I could feel sitting in my apartment in my own company. What do I mean by 'invisible?'

"Invisible" is when you are communicating with or in the company of a friend, family member, lover, or colleague and not once in your interaction were you asked (from a place of thoughtfulness or meaningfulness) how/what things are going on in your life, your thoughts or feelings (about anything really), or your own wants and needs in life. "Invisible" is when the other person talks and talks and talks (usually about him/herself), not giving you a chance to contribute to the conversation or steer the conversation to something more worthwhile. "Invisible" is something I feel when others don't notice when I drop off the radar from time to time (ie, when I don't post anything online, call, or text). "Invisible" is incredible loneliness I feel when I'm upset and want to find comfort in a conversation with a friend, but the friend doesn't return my call nor comprehend the depths of my emotional pain to even bother responding. "Invisible" is how I sometimes feel being surrounded by people who are married and/or who have children when the spotlight is on married and family life (there's no opportunity to be in the spotlight when you're a childless, single woman in her 30's).

No matter how much quantity time we may spend with others we care about, how much of that time do we really see or take the time to really know (and furthermore, understand) the other person? How much of our conversations embody genuine intimacy, a peek into the essence of our deeper selves? When it is intimate, how often is there opportunity for the intimacy to be two-sided (both individuals getting a chance to share something about themselves)? It seems like there's too much 'blah, blah, blah' and superficial chatter. Most people have no problem 'taking' in their relationships, yet few can master the art of giving and listening.

As long as this continues to be the norm, I will continue to prefer being alone to being in the company of any lonely (aka "invisible") relationship.

PS....I absolutely love this video "How to Be Alone." This sums up (to me anyway) the positive aspects of being alone, perfectly and succinctly.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs

To have or not have children?

You may recall a few months ago I wrote a blog about post-partum friendships (ie, how my friendships with friends have changed since they've become mothers). Well, this blog is a followup/sequel to that blog. I've had all sorts of thoughts running through my mind since I took a trip last week to see a close friend of mine (who is now a mom to a 10 month old).

It's one thing to intellectualize a concept; it's quite another to observe or experience it firsthand. While I once appreciated when friends would candidly tell me their pregnancy and motherhood experiences (the good, the bad, the ugly, and even the gross), I now am starting to resent knowing more than I want to know. "Why's that?" you're probably wondering. Well, as the cliche so succinctly puts it....Ignorance can be more blissful. The more I know about what comes with parenthood, the less appeal it has for me.

Up until a week ago, I never thought about whether or not I would have children someday. Let me rephrase that. I can't remember there ever being a time when I asked myself if I didn't want to be a mother at some point in my lifetime. I blindly accepted that as something I wanted for myself without ever really thinking deeply about all it entails.....especially those first 12 months of the child's life. What's funny is that the last few years I have been worrying about my biological clock, wondering how much 'time I have left' to find the guy and then create the kid. Now that anxiety seems to be disappearing....

While staying at my friend's house for 5 days, I witnessed two very sleep deprived, loving and nurturing parents as they tended to their 10 month old son's various needs. I got tired just watching them! I honestly wondered how they could do it....24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I realize it takes more work in the beginning because a baby is totally dependent on you for everything, but it really had me wondering if I could (or would really want to) make that kind of lifetime commitment/responsibility. I know there are amazing things to parenthood, so I'm not bashing it or anything. I just don't know if it's for me. Or maybe I would feel differently if I had a great husband to share the parenting. It's just hard to conceptualize. Then again, maybe I'm wasting my time.

Maybe it's futile to intellectualize the experience of being a parent because if all human beings did so, the human race might not continue reproducing at all. haha. I don't know. All I do know is that whenever I find the right guy out there that I'm meant to be with for the long haul, I don't want to rush into having a child and 'lose' my significant other before I ever really had him. There are things I want to experience with Future Husband (for instance, traveling together around the world comes to mind as one example) that would be difficult to do with a child in the picture. Perhaps I may decide to be a mother one day, but I also may not.

What I've gleaned from my recent experience with my friend and her 10 month old child is that I don't have to buy into what everyone else is doing just because they're doing it. I can have my own perceptions and realizations, my own desires. I can come to my own conclusions...even if that means following the beat of a much different drum...just doing my own thing. Whatever that may be at the moment.

A 'death' I could never stop grieving

Tonight I came across an article that troubled me....although it wasn't the actual subject matter that bothered me; my concerns ran deeper. As I read about Barnes and Noble's recent decision to "put itself up for sale" this month, I nearly cringed when I saw this sentence: "My hunch is that B&N never really embraced the Internet or e-books, tied as it was to the old-fashioned world of physical books and stores."

I could care less what happens to a corporate bookstore, but what I do care about is the future of 'physical books.' My concern is that with such rapid advances and trends in technology, there may come a day when physical books become obsolete. And if that day comes, that may bring with it a grief I may not be able to bear.

This may sound bizarre to most people, but books are more than just mere physical objects to me. I have a relationship to books that few people could probably understand.

From a very young age, I spent a considerable amount of time occupying myself with books. While I couldn't always count on people, books were one of the few constants in my life. I knew I was loved....but my family members always had so much going on with their lives that oftentimes I felt invisible. Books were a friendly comfort and escape from the loneliness I felt so much of the time (Interestingly, both my grandfather and my mother loved books/reading.....so in a weird way, I also felt a little more connected to them with this shared passion.)

With books, I could dive into a whole other world of people, places, and possibilities. I could pretend I was the center of attention. I could be the heroine. I could empathize with the characters and their struggles. Sometimes it even seemed like a book was specifically written just for me, as if the writer could somehow get inside my head like no one in my 'real life' ever could.

If you were to ask me about a particular book I've read, most of the time I can recall a very vivid memory attached to the book....whether that be where I was while reading a particular book, a book reminding me of a particular person/relationship or time in my life, what year I read the book, what was going on in my life at the time while reading the specific book, and my interests/curiosity (in life, genres, topics/issues).

Throughout my life, books have been an extension of myself....my personality, my identity. They are a reflection of the very heart and soul of me. They have also been my closest and dearest companions. With books, I feel connected to myself and the world at large more than I ever have with just people or words on a computer screen.

Online books don't provide meaningfulness, symbolism, or unique memories. You can't smell the newness or oldness of an online book. You can't touch the pages and take a trip down memory lane in your mind. You can't place it on your real bookshelf. There's just something very sacred and intimate about 'old fashioned' books.

If there's ever a day in the future where 'real' actual books become obsolete, I don't know that I would be able to handle it....a 'death' I could never stop grieving.

Opening Up (book review)

Working in the counseling profession, I wanted to learn/educate myself on the topic of open relationships (something I knew hardly anything about), so I decided to read "Opening Up: Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships" by Tristan Taormino.

While it was challenging for me to wrap my head around some of the complex issues connected to the subject of open relationships, I found this book to be articulately well-written and informative. I learned quite a bit and it challenged me to examine negative assumptions (based on my ignorance) I previously held about this particular subject. I still don't understand it completely, but this book helped me to know what it entails and how to help others (such as my clients) explore if it is a lifestyle they wish to pursue for themselves.

Totally recommend this book to clinicians in the counseling field, as well as the everyday person who wants (or is curious about) open relationships. Having an open mind, however, is essential to reading this book. Prepare for your preconceived cultural perceptions of monogamy vs. nonmonogamy to be questioned, maybe even shattered...

Culture of a city

(Photo at left taken by me: Fremont Solstice Parade, June 2009)

I got to thinking about this last night while chatting online with a friend (after telling him about something I've noticed about the city in which I reside). It dawned on me that prevalent cultural interests or trends aren't just specific to countries or even just regions....they can extend to cities as well. I can only speak to the city I am getting to know quite well, but so far it has me wondering how the culture of a city can influence one's personality ( a city as being more liberal vs. conservative, friendly vs. standoffish, earth conscious vs. wasteful/toxic, intelligent vs. dumbed down...and the list goes on and on). How much more (or less) inhibited may we become in regard to self-expression depending on where we are living?

In the time I have lived in Seattle thus far, I have seen, heard, and done things I had not done before while living in Chicago...mainly because Seattle has presented cultural opportunities not offered in Chicago. Before I moved, I perceived Seattle to be a city very much like Chicago...at least in regard to the liberal arts, intelligence, education,etc. But after having lived here two years, I am noticing how very very liberal it is here....so much so that it almost makes Chicago look like a prude city.

Since living here, I have gone to a solstice parade (which includes a feature of naked cyclists). I have observed marijuana to be a staple 'crop,' including in brownies. There's the annual celebration of HempFest. I have been to an erotic arts festival. I have gone dancing at an all lesbian bar/club. I am also starting to learn about a widespread popularity in the alternative lifestyle of "polyamory" (which I really need to learn more about for my work with clients who are into this just to understand its concepts and practices). I recycle because it's expected here. I'm surrounded by people who love, respect and spend oodles of time in nature (national parks, beaches, mountains). I've also noticed a majority of the population here has a better vocabulary than anywhere else I've lived. Even a 12 year old the other day used the word "offensive" while conversing with me (I almost fell out of my chair in proud astonishment)! These are all things I never even remotely came across while living in another major city.

Last weekend when I was dancing with my friend, I told her that I had a feeling Seattle would bring out my confidence/take away my inhibitions. She didn't seem to think it had anything to do with Seattle.....but I do. When you're surrounded by very very liberal people (for someone who is already of a liberal mindset, like myself), what's the likelihood that you're going to become very very conservative? Not likely. You either find yourself drawn to the norm, or you stay away from it.

Who I am won't change completely, but the aspects of myself that are yearning to be expressed? The culture of this city may just make it all the more likely.

*ADVENTURE*

(Photo at left taken by me: Alki Beach in Seattle, June 2010)

Do you ever wish you could go back to a time in your life when things felt more exciting, full of adventure, spontaneity, and just a hint of crazy goodness? Does a certain place bring this out in us or is it a sign of youth vs. getting older?

What if we are capable of being adventurous, and just choose to or not to be?

I have been pondering this quite a bit lately. Most recently, I was thinking that my life has been feeling pretty boring since I moved to Seattle and chalked it up to mainly not having formed solid friendships in the area thus far....as well as being at a different place in my life than most of my friends (ie, most are married and having/had kids). But now I'm starting to feel it goes beyond that.

I realized last night (while I was having an experience new to me) that perhaps it has more to do with being presented with and/or seizing opportunities that have the capacity to allow one's adventurous side to reveal itself. Maybe it's also about finding other people who we can push our comfort zones with to try new things with an adventurous spirit.

I could be wrong, but it has been my observation that this is a rare quality I have come across (or rather, not come across) in people I know, have relationships with,etc. Or if I do know people who have this capability, they're not being transparent about it. I told my friend June last night she's the only adventurous person I have met (so far) since I moved to Seattle. While I can certainly cultivate my own adventurous side by myself, there's something to be said about the dynamic being stronger when you're with another person/group to really draw this out...or so I feel.

Why aren't more people pursuing the intriguing thrill of the unknown, that juicy part of life that connects us to something deeper and can reveal to ourselves the magnitude of our confidence, our sensual/erotic side, our inner growth? Are people that afraid to learn about the mysteries of life, the "taboos," themselves? If this is the case, how incredibly sad. I am grateful I am not this way, if this really is the case.

When I was younger, I used to yearn for a sense of belonging. I never fit in with popular social circles in school...or even in my own family (I felt like the displaced/invisible family member starting at a very young age). There were a myriad of aspects in which I always felt different.

I was never thin or athletic. I was never a fashionista or a girly girl (though can't say I ever wanted to be anyway, hahaha). I was the new girl at school more often than I'd have liked, moving frequently during my formative years. I was a bookworm. I listened and observed. I loved learning. I was open-minded. I yearned to really know people beyond the surface level. I couldn't understand why people engaged in small talk (boring!!!!) rather than more worthwhile topics of conversation. I more often than not felt frustrated, depressed, and angry that I couldn't find people that shared some of these qualities that made me so unique/"cursed."

It is only with the eyes of a 32 year old that I can smile with gratitude for these early experiences. For what was once a curse is now an absolute blessing. I don't want to belong anymore. Paradoxically, I find myself yearning for and seeking out experiences that will bring out that very feeling in me...but in a liberating and confident way.

The way I see it, how much can we learn about the world and ourselves if we surround ourselves with the status quo, with dogma? How can we know our inner world if our outer environment is routine and stagnant?

If we are curious about something we know nothing about and have some anxiety about doing/learning about it simply because it is completely foreign to us (or maybe there is a fear of what other people will think of us), this is likely a sign to explore the unknown. Learn about yourself. You may be pleasantly surprised and refreshed with what you discover. I think society and the media drill such fear into us, playing out stereotypes and negativity. Why does something thrilling, exciting, bold, juicy, and adventurous have to be perceived as "bad", "dark," "crazy," "dangerous," or just generally "threatening?" God forbid, we should encourage people to think for themselves and really know those secret/deeper aspects of themselves....

Without such new and unknown experiences, I wouldn't know how confident and comfortable I have become in my skin. I wouldn't know just how little I genuinely care what other people think of me when it comes to me not compromising who I am at the expense of having relationships with others. I wouldn't know what freedom and independence feels like. I wouldn't know how to transcend my fears, my preconceived judgments, my ignorance. I wouldn't truly know how capable I am of 'holding my own' in divergent situations and relationships. I wouldn't discover fun and intriguing things I now want to try that I didn't even realize I wanted to try in the past!

Without them, I wouldn't feel truly alive.

The In Between Crisis

There's the teen angst phase, the quarter-life crisis, and the midlife crisis. But what about the crisis that comes between one's 20's and 40's....thirty-somethings who experience something of a cross between the two (ie, the 20something's feeling of not knowing what's in store for the future, yet the 40something's feeling that your life is starting to feel like a succession of boring moments and monotony)?

Is there a name for the thirty-something who experiences THIS kind of life stage crisis? Granted, we can't expect our lives to always be exploding with excitement....but when you can't remember the last time you felt even a modicum of adventure and crazy spontaneity, what does that reflect about your inner and outer life?

I remember reading something in grad school about how there are two Chinese characters for the word 'crisis,' one representing 'danger' and the other 'opportunity.' If we have a choice in how to respond when a 'crisis' presents itself in our lives, how do we embrace 'opportunity' in lieu of the unwanted alternative?

Post-partum friendships: the great divide

Every time a close female friend of mine is pregnant/has a baby, I get to thinking about what I have come to experience in an almost textbook way....what I shall call 'the great divide.'

Let's rewind to the days when my close female friends were single, even just newly married. There was once long conversations ranging from witty to serious, covering anything from worldly topics to mundane, silly, or idiotic stuff we've done. We would hang out, laugh, drink, and just generally...bond.

When my friends started getting married, it was weird enough to think of them as 'married.' It seemed like there was this invisible wall that separated single me from the coupled 'them.' It took some adjustment, but eventually I felt less of a sense of segregation the more friends I saw getting married. Perhaps it also made a difference that marriage didn't seem to change their personality much.

Pregnancy and motherhood, however, is a whole different ballpark. I feel awful for saying this, but I secretly have this weird sense of both happiness and sadness when I find out a friend is pregnant. I'm happy for my friend, without a doubt. From all that I've ever heard and observed, motherhood is this powerful and amazing experience. I even want to know the experiences my friend is having in her pregnancy, what it's like and welcome being an 'auntie' of sorts to this future child with excitement.

At the same time, my friendships are never the same after a child is in the picture. In a way, it's like my friend has "died." No longer is there hanging out, nor long conversations (if any at all) or shared experiences. I used to think maybe there was a part of me that was jealous, but I realized I wasn't....well, at least not jealous of having a baby. The thought of giving birth to a child still frightens the bejesus out of me.

What I'm jealous of is the feeling that I'm missing out on a shared collective experience amongst my female friends who are mothers. They start gravitating (and naturally/understandably so) towards their female friends who DO have kids/are mothers. They swap pregnancy and motherhood stories, a unique bonding all its own. Since I don't meet that criteria, I am not given a second glance. In a way, it feels like an elite members only country club. Sometimes I wonder if it would feel differently if I were also married and expecting....

The more life stages/roles that aren't parallel to a friend's, it's my experience that the more distant our friendship becomes. It's sad to think that the power of bonding in my female friendships is strongly dependent upon shared life experiences. Given that I'm single and childless, I'm shit out of luck because I have no way to 'catch up' and salvage the kind of bond I had once before with these women.

I will always love my friends (child or no child), but I can't deny 'the great divide' exists even if it's the elephant in the room that no one wants to admit is certainly the reality in post-partum friendships. What's worse is that I can never tell my friends this because I don't think they would understand....just as I don't understand how this little human being has changed their world so drastically as to make my interactions with them feel less meaningful than they were pre-partum. They also might think I'm being selfish. And maybe I am, but why shouldn't I be when (at this stage of my life) my friends are all I've got?

I wonder if single men feel the same way in their friendships with men who are fathers. Maybe. But probably not (just my hunch). Sometimes I wish I were a man. I'm sure no guy is brooding about this topic on a blog after 10:00 on a Saturday night....

A man's fateful poison

(A poem I wrote, June 10, 2005)

He drowns in a pitch black park of familiar faces just to escape his own

Cannot feel except the damp tears drying on his sunken cheeks

He tightens his grip on the liquid eraser that promises at least six hours of blurry vision, but not enough hours in the night to help him forget the finality of someone who was gone long before his death.

"He didn't hit me or anything. He just didn't care."

Then you wished he hit you instead, as if violence were a warped way of showing he cared and loved you.

He thinks death follows him. Who could be next?

The grim reaper creeps behind him, hiding his face behind a morbid glare.

Reluctant and heavy with sorrow, he keeps from his world those who could be close.

If not for the fear of the black hooded creature taking away the only ones that matter

He might be able to take off his own armor....