It was a good day

Yesterday was nothing but delightful from beginning to end. I can't think of the last time, if ever, I spent a day content, engaged, happy, satisfied. Nothing extraordinary happened, there were no super highs (and therefore no crazy lows), it was just good.

As the kids headed out to camp—it was a friend's turn to take them downtown—I got a text from my oldest friends who happened to be in the city. She's also the person who rescues animals and sent Gracie to us. We met for spur-of-the-moment coffee with our puppies and ended up for a couple of hours chatting away in Washington Square Park, surrounded by flowers, shade from trees keeping us almost cool, the fountain dancing in the background. I dropped Gracie at home and then headed to an hour and a half yoga class with one of my all time, most delicious teachers who'd been gone for a year but is now back at Laughing Lotus. Even more of a bonus, one of my favorite songs was on her soundtrack for the day and I moved to a groove that was transportational, which isn't a word but that's what it was. Class ended with the deepest, juiciest shavasana ever.

As if that wasn't enough, my teacher and I went to Westville for lunch: I had a yummy Greek salad and sweet potato fries, which were perfection. From there I headed to Soho, stopped by delightful pup shop called Doggy Style, then picked up everyone at camp. We stopped by Eileen's Cheesecake before heading home.

Gracie had been at my sister's for the afternoon, so after an intense I-missed-you-so-much lovefest, and a few mellow moments, my friend from the morning and her pup stopped by. It was her birthday (the real reason for the cheesecake stop) and the mini celebration turned into ordering dinner and spending hours hanging out and catching up. After watermelon, more Westville: broccoli with garlic, pesto mashed potatoes, string beans with almonds and hearts of palm with roasted pepper, and cheesecake: regular, strawberry, dulce du leche, chocolate, oreo and mocha, it was time to end the day.

The stars aligned in a super mellow way. No one whined. No one fought. There were no arguments or altercations. No moments of stress. Everyone co-existed peacefully, calmly, contendedly.

I got in bed, so grateful for my family, my friends, my practice, my puppy, my home, my life, where I am, who I am.

It was a good day.

it's not me

I am who I am. Messy. Complicated. Melodramatic at times. Far easier than I used to be but sometimes still rigid. My expectations aren't high, to me, but to others perhaps I expect too much. I'm a good listener. Am as supportive as I possibly can be. I want to help whenever/however I can. I am enthusiastic. Motivated. Involved. Anxious. Neurotic at times. Driven, although lately that seems to have taken a back seat to mellow contentment. I have excellent manners. I can be needy at times but only when something's being held out for me as if it's a promise and then it never comes through.

I hurt. But I don't hold grudges.

I don't change. Not really.

But people around me do and I'm not sure why love turns to hate. Interest turns to distain. Friendships fade or disappear with no explanation.

And then, sometimes, things swing back the other way and I'm left reeling, confused, not sure what made the difference.

Why do I bother trying to make things better?

Why am I the one who continually has to forgive and accept?

Why do I still hurt when I've been here so many times?

Will I ever be able to shrug my shoulders and move on?

switching gears

I'm trying to keep 2 daily blogs going but it's not so easy. In fact, it's more than a bit challenging as I've been challenged lately to find anything to write about at all.

I've got glimmers of ideas.

But they're too faint to grab ahold of.

I've got posts and articles people have asked for.

But I can't seem to get any of them going.

I've lost my creativity in the moment.

But I'm not totally and completely freaked out by that (most of the time anyway).

And so, today, please check out my new blog:

Life with Gracie

back to anxiety

It's been awhile since I've written from down deep. It's been awhile since I've been down deep—the past month or so has been all about floating, existing on the surface, being more in the moment than I generally am. Living with less anxiety.

It's been lovely.

I haven't worried about what's next. There's been no panic about no projects. No drive to make things happen. I've been hype-free. I've been anxiety free and let me tell you, it's an amazing place. I didn't realize, until meds kicked in, that I've been anxious all the time for as long as I can remember. Not having that pit in my stomach, that clenching in my jaw, that dread that at any time the heat would rise in my head, my heart would start pounding and panic would drown me has been freeing.

Only it's back.

It started 2 days ago. Just a feeling of unease and then last night, sitting in the cramped upstairs of a falafel restaurant, I felt panic return like a hard kick in the stomach. I nervously waited for it to take over. It didn't but just worrying that it would plunged me back to a place of darkness.

The crazy thing was that it had been an amazing day. I did a 20 mile bike ride, by myself, something I'd never been brave enough to do before. There were moments, riding up the Hudson, light sparkling on the water, shining through leaves, wind and speed keeping me cool on the bright sunny day I was filled with joy. With happiness. With completeness (that was more on the way there, the way back my legs had moments of struggle). And then I saw a movie by myself, another first. I hadn't planned to but I was blown off at the last moment and there I was. The popcorn was great. The movie was terrific. And I was fine.

So, why the panic?

Could be that after weeks of floating we've got a schedule again and I'm back to running places and time constraints. Could be that after weeks of general mellowness there's full scale complaining and whining going on at my house at the moment. It's hard to take so much negative on. Could be that below feeling fine about not being immersed in a project maybe that's not ok for me—I miss being busy, digging into something, researching, learning, discovering.

I miss my drive. I miss my passion. I miss my edge.

I miss phone calls and interviews and plans.

I miss having a schedule, setting goals, knowing what I want to do.

Only I don't know what I want to do.

It's out there. I have to believe I'm not done yet. I can't have reached my pinnacle and will now only slide downhill. Deep in my heart I know that's not true.

(sort of).

a different kind of accomplishment

This morning I biked to the George Washington Bridge and back. By myself. Which is something I never thought I'd do. I had plans to ride with a friend but at the last minute something came up and she couldn't make it.

I could have gone to yoga.

I could have worked on the many projects I should be working on.

I could have cleaned my apartment, taken the puppy for a long walk, caught up on bills and paperwork.

Instead, I got on my bike and headed to the west side highway planning to ride to 125th Street and back. But, as I approached Fairway and saw the bridge in the not too distance, I kept going.

There was a moment, as I entered a secluded part of the path, way up north, tall leafy trees casting dappled shade, birds chirping, not a soul, a car, a sign of urban life anywhere, all I could do was laugh. It was perfect. Beautiful to the point of almost unbelievable.

I was happy.

I am happy.

This is a really lovely place. Feeling brave enough to tackle things that mere months ago I would never have considered. To push my body hard. To push my ego even harder. To not be driven to accomplish "things" but instead revel in the intangible.

There was another moment, as I flew past tennis courts that I sensed what enlightenment was. Not that I'm there. Not that I think I ever will be. But it flitted past and I felt, saw, knew it's possible to be beyond yourself, to let go of the trappings of what you think you're supposed to be doing and swim in the bigness of it all.

I had a really good morning. And I'm going to bask in it as long as I can.

soul deep commitment

Today in yoga my bright light teacher talked about powerful commitments, dedicating yourself to something so completely, so whole-heartedly, so deeply you are compelled, driven to make it a reality. Believing in something so much with every ounce of your being, you have no choice but to take it as far as you possibly can and then some. And, if you don't feel that way about what you think is your direction, your project, your goal, set it on fire and let it go.

Damn.

My head exploded. My heart felt lighter than it has in too long.

Let it go.

A quick tangent . . . much to my delight, my honor, my thrill, she used me as an example—how I'd written a book and did everything within my power to share it with the world. And how after the constant talking, emailing, facebooking, blogging, tweeting, working, believing, I ended up on The View. Trust me, that was something so far beyond anything I could have imagined, but there I was, because I poured my soul into something I believed needed to be out in the world.

Now back to the exploding head.

I don't feel that way about anything right now. FLOW flowed through me. It was something that was meant to be. I was a conduit to start a conversation that was long overdue.  I fought so damn hard to make it happen. I literally poured blood into that project. I've never worked for so many months on the edge of a breakdown. I've never doubted myself so much. I've never been so proud. I've never had opportunities and experiences like the ones that came my way for having written it.

I don't need to do it again.

On one hand, it didn't change my life profoundly. No one's knocking on my door with brilliant offers. My day to day is basically the same as it's always been. On the other hand, I've grown more than I knew I could, I would. Having lived the hype, the frenzy, the roller coaster I know, deep down, I don't need that to make me happy.

Once was fine.

Once was a dream.

Struggling to recapture it isn't my path.

Having said that, yet again, I have no idea what the hell my path is. Yet again, I'm staring down emptiness. Yet again, I don't know what to do next.

This time though, I'm standing in a place of contentment, of pride, of accomplishment. I made my dream project a reality.

That was my icing. What's next will be the chocolate sprinkles.

I just am

I'm alternate side parking, sitting in my car, my puppy lounging in the back seat. It's hot but not as sticky as it's been. The kids are at camp until 4. I've got the entire day by myself and except for a vet appointment, no other concrete things on the schedule.

Maybe a yoga class.

Maybe not. Turns out I have bursitis in my shoulder and that's what's been hurting so much. A month of anti-inflammatories and icing like mad should do the trick.

So, perhaps I'll take a nap.

I have tons of cleaning to do. Paperwork to dive into. Organizing to take care of.

I could bake a cake.

I could sort through my clothes and get rid of things I don't wear anymore.

I could fix the chipped purple nail polish on my right foot.

I could tackle much bigger things, but I'm not going to even mention them because I know that won't happen.

Perhaps I'll take a nap.

That's a worthwhile goal.