Be the change you want to see.

I've been doing short workouts twice a week, during this whole pandemic, but that's basically all. I've kept a decent amount of the muscle 💪 strength I developed pre pandemic, most of the flexibility.

But.

My shit still hurts, regularly. Still have regular aches at the dislocation and bone breaks (right ankle, knee, wrist) plus where those limbs join the torso (shoulder and hip/lower back).

Yesterday I took a walk with my niece, from her house into downtown mountain view. It's like five or six short city blocks, not like long New York or SF blocks. That and back again, and stopping at two shops.

Holy CATS y'all. My endurance isn't great. My wind isn't great. Even my balance isn't great, because the muscles in the right side of me haven't been getting enough challenge to stay strong, soft and healthy.

I wasn't embarrassingly wobbly, but I could feel it, and was reminded of how difficult it used to be to walk straight before I had the ACL replacement surgery. Which I never enjoy that reminder.

Uncomfortable, not fully painful.

Bit of a blister on the sole of my foot, achy body especially around hips and knees. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I DID THE THING and now I have a baseline.

Etty has been telling me I need to be walking more, maybe bicycling more.

And I was like, yeah, yeahhhhhhh ONLY NOW that I'm sore (not sore AF, but SORE) from a walk that probably wasn't even quite a full mile round trip?

I'm feeling more motivation to a) take daily short walks and b) get my bicycle fixed up so I can ride her again. (She's pretty and purple and PLAYAFIED hahahah )'( and has flat tires I think, and a rusty chain.

I'm going to see if the bike shop has time to take her on Friday. I came to slow wakefulness remembering/dreaming how nice it can be to bicycle out and back, especially earlier in the day or later in the evening.

I have a Plan. *\o/*

From October 12th, 2018, 03:28 pm
Inktober/wordtober/poem a day
The prompt was "Nessie" but I'm taking this somewhere else underwater.

Longing.

Have you ever been shamed for what you craved? Has your longing ever been pointed out as wrong or weird or twisted or broken or an imposition or something unnecessary?

I have. I've been shamed for wanting things, for wanting experiences, for wanting people. And I don't think that was right. And most days I'm okay, most days it feels like I'm over it, but today is not one of those days.

The thing about a longing is it doesn't come out of your mind. It's not a thought. It wells up from deep in your belly, deep in your heart, or dare I say it, spirit or soul. You can't talk yourself out of a longing.

You can hold yourself quiet about it, can keep the surface of your personal pond pristine and peaceful. Still, underneath the surface something lives, something moves, something travels. Something roils the water beneath the surface.

And there are days where I can no longer bear to live on the quiet pristine peaceful surface. On a day like today, I sink below to the Deep places, where the water presses through my flesh and into my bones.

I sink down to the deep mud churned places, where I can finally breathe.



2)
KILROY WAS HERE
(probably 2015)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903659

...and it takes place after the end of the world.

Oh god, we were SO FUCKING STUPID.
So naive.

those long discussions around the campfire or around the HDTV, cold beers in our hands, hot nachos in the fucking microwave, laughing and joking about the fucking "zombie apocalypse". How we would have this job or that job, how we would hole up in a Costco store, because it would have everything we'd need to survive and even enjoy life after the world ended. The skills we already had or could learn quickly in order to be valuable enough to win our way into someone else's fortified stronghold.

We had NO IDEA. We had NO IDEA what we really needed, what we really knew how to do, how fucking SOFT we were.
How much EVERYTHING would hurt. How much WORK just bloody EVERYTHING would take, how much thinking and planning and acquiring.

How much FEAR. Terror. Absolutely shit-your-pants terror.

We used to say, "I'd get a really good knife, and really good boots, and this kind of backpack and that kind of rifle" without really understanding.
What happens when your knife gets dull? Well, you sharpen it. How do you sharpen it? Do you KNOW how? do you have the right tools? can you recognize something else you could improvise as a blade sharpener, if you run across it? and can you use that blade, even dull, to do what you must to survive another day? It's hard work, gutting a carcass, butchering an animal for meat...

Same goes, obviously, for the REST of all our dumb-shit assumptions about how privileged and lucky and SKILLED we were.

What happens if someone TAKES your tools from you? Those books you treasured, that were the reason why you thought you'd gain admission into someone's guarded bolthole? The boots, the knife, even your CLOTHES. What happens if you're not strong enough to protect them? To hold onto them?

Knowing how to brew beer isn't very valuable when there's not enough fucking FOOD. Nobody really cares about booze when they're starving. Knowing how to bake bread is useless, so are gardening skills, if you can't settle down anywhere longer than a week or two for fear of the scavengers. Wildcrafting is a blessing, and I'm glad every day for what I learned from my beloved Girl Scout Leader, of all things. What she taught me when I was fourteen makes the difference now between hungry and starved to death.

I'm always hungry now, I'm always worried about getting hurt bad enough so I can't run anymore. I haven't had any of my meds in over two years, I've got half a tube of neosporin left and fuck-all chance of scoring any more. I'm getting slower, I hurt more often, I'm lonely as fuck. I'll never stop grieving my husband and my home and the comforts I once took for granted, but I just don't have any fucking TIME to FEEL. Every moment has to be spent in working out how am I going to survive this day, food, water, shelter, taking care of myself, whether I can trust anyone at all. Despair would dog my footsteps if Despair could keep up with me. I move fast for an old broad. Fuck that, I move fast period.

What the fuck am I even doing? Who am I even writing this for? I have no idea who's going to read it, but I'm stuck here anyway till it's dark and I can sneak away through the shadows. Might as well, I guess.
heh.
One thing my shitty childhood was good for. Learning how to hide, to sneak, to find all the places nobody would think to look for me. No, I'm not sharing my secrets. Find your own damn bolthole. Oh. Heh. If you're reading this, I guess you DID find your own bolthole, just that I was here first. Hi.

I'd tell you to keep the faith, but I don't think anyone has faith in anything but themselves anymore. I'd tell you to keep up hope, but I know you know that's a stupid, useless thing to say. I can tell you I'm thinking about you, because it's true. Random Stranger Reading This, I hope you're less hungry and less alone than I am. RSRT, I hope you have someone or something to love and take care of. RSRT, try to be kind. My only happy memories from the last two years are of random kindnesses. Someone scratched directions to a waterhole that hadn't gone dry. Someone left bedding in a bolthole. Someone left the last few pieces of fruit on a tree... that might not have been kindness, that might have been someone who was too big to climb out onto those thin whippy branches at the top of the tree... someone little like me could still get up and out to them.

Once, back in the day, I was fat and prosperous and happy. I thought I was ugly, being fat, I had NO fucking IDEA. I was so lucky then. I was loved, and safe, and pampered and treasured, and I had no idea. Now I'm tiny, wiry, strong, and fast. I have had to be, to survive.

Random Stranger Reading this, despite everything, have hope. Life may be shit right now, but if we all keep going, something has GOT to get better. Maybe I've been off my meds too long, and this is a manic episode, maybe it's just I've exhausted all my fear and I don't fucking have time for anything that doesn't keep me going.

I do have hope. I don't know why, but I do.

It's almost dark now, I can barely see to write, so it's time to pack up and head out silently to my next bolthole.

I hope you can pass some hope along to the next person you meet, and I hope they're worthy of you trusting them.

Good luck, and gods' speed to you.

"kilroy"

Logged reading time: 7:30


3)
poem: Building Strength
(2:30)

why is it painful to let go of unhelpful words?
perhaps these were once upon a time, protectors,
the words bookworm, nerd, gimp, weakling.
the belief that if it was hard, I wasn't meant to do it...
if I were meant to do it, it would surely come naturally?

i can't seem to get my glasses clean
to see my own Self in the mirror
to understand my own wingspan
or the extent of my reach
or how far I can leap

hamstrung by my blindness
the persistence of memory
self image of pale, soft, weak, fearful
but there is so much more to me
than what I used to be

Am I strong? Yes. Am I smart? Yes.
Am I capable? Yes. Am I flexible? Yes.
Am I kind? Yes.
Am I soft?

*smile* Yes, I am soft.
Soft like a pillow at naptime, and comfortable.
Soft like silk sheets, and strong like them too.

Am I brave?
Yes.
Could I write were I still fearful?
Yes, ... but I wouldn't show my heart, were I still fearful.

I don't deal in trivialities.
I want the blood, and the bone, and the sweat,
I want the gritted teeth and the grunts of effort.

I step beyond old useless protectors.
I make myself stronger from the inside
I stand strong

I do not need the deflections of nerd, gimp, weakling.

I see the world as it is and as I would have it
and I reach out my hands
to begin shaping the world
A strong, kind, smart, compassionate world

and my strong hands
will shape it

NOTES: Good audience attention and faces.
Kit said, "damn you got some tasty brains!"
Jeff said, "good pieces!"

Jen and Andrew, Sean and Julia, Suzie and Bala, Mindy and Steve, Jeff and Daniel,
Kit and Amy, all attended!!!

Was talking with Jenn this morning and we were talking about sex and kissing and generally being fed, emotionally.

Being fed, emotionally, is what I call intimacy.

I was thinking about writing a Tumblr post, and maybe I'll adapt this for that purpose, because Intimacy comes in a MILLION forms that AREN'T sex. And there needs to be an understanding of that. Across the board, there needs to be an understanding of that.

Sex isn't necessarily intimacy. Sex doesn't necessarily feed your spirit and self, or make you feel satisfied.

Orgasm isn't necessarily intimacy either. (though sex without a satisfying orgasm can be classified as "bad sex", it can still feel intimate, especially if there's clear communication about what's going on and why, or if at least one partner feels like it's a gift to their partner) I could write so much about this, but that's what I've got at the moment.

Intimacy can be the right amount of eye contact during a meaningful discussion.
Or it can be someone who knows just when to offer a hug, and who holds on as long as you need it..
Intimacy can be the kind of hug where you can hear the other person's heartbeat and you just feel safe.
Or it can be touching and being touched in the ways that feel satisfying.

(I'm laughing at myself a little, because part of the reason I'm writing this is that I've had a song stuck in my head for two days, and it seems like it's an anthem for ace/asexual folks...)



Intimacy isn't about being naked with someone. (necessarily!) I've been hot tubbing for literally decades. It can be sexual, it can be chill. It can be friendly, or there can be no connection whatever between you and the other naked person...

But then there's this: One time at Kiva (santa cruz hot tub place) I met someone in the public space talking-allowed tub. For some reason we wound up talking about the fact that I was considering having ACL reconstruction/knee surgery. Probably that my body was hurting all the time, and I'd only recently finally learned that the ACL on my right knee wasn't just damaged, it was not just broken, but it was completely GONE. My ACL had broken so long before I and my doctors figured it out and got the MRI testing done, that my body had cannibalized the tissue, cleaned it right out.

I'm talking to the guy. It felt safe to express my fears about surgery, generally, and also to explain and describe the ongoing chronic pain I had been suffering. (when your body is missing a structural member, the muscles elsewhere in the body overwork to make up for that lack. This frequently causes serious pain.)

He says, I had that kind of surgery twenty years ago, things are VERY different now. He lifts his knee out of the water, there's a giant red scar circling 2/3-3/4 of his knee. He says, this is how they used to do ACL replacement, before arthroscopic surgery. He describes the process, which I'll spare you from hearing. Then he describes how they do surgery "now" (in 2011) with small incisions, a camera to guide the surgeon, and a much shorter recovery time.

Being naked and in a trusting environment facilitated the intimacy. Which was the sharing of personal stories, advice, and perspective, and LISTENING. Listening, with a mind to HELP.

I did get that surgery, (which is now 7 years ago on my personal timeline) in part because I had this conversation. He said it was worth getting, even back when he got it, even with the extensive scarring and longer recovery period. I'd thank him, if I met him again and recognized him.

That felt intimate. Shared stories and kindness.

Contrariwise, I have an ex boyfriend who used the being naked together/having been naked together, as an awkward means to try and reconnect and/or hit on people. It became One of his usual greetings. "Hey, haven't I seen you naked?"

He thought he was funny, I guess. Eh. *eyeroll*

My friend L is asexual, smart, funny, punny, charming, cute. She's one of the reasons why that song up there got stuck in my head. I've taken a year of pottery classes with her, and we camped together at Burning Man this year, sharing some adventures. We come from different backgrounds, but we always have been able to talk about all kinds of things. She asks the most interesting questions, because she's *interested* in people and how they think and feel about a variety of different things.

Conversations with L are always interesting and intimate. Lots of people say "small talk is bullshit" but she asks real questions, and answers real questions thoughtfully. She's really REAL.

Another example: a different friend needed a safe space and to be listened to and be a little bit squished last night. Then she needed to cry. She cried, for hours, on my shoulder and in my arms. She needed to talk and vent about her sorrows and anger and disappointment about her relationship disintegrating under her, despite her best efforts. And her efforts have been many, detailed, and persistent, in trying to "fix" her marriage, to communicate clearly, to set her boundaries. I admire the work she's been doing, and I'm fucking sad as hell and disappointed in her partner for blowing past her boundaries, ignoring her communication, and failing to show up and meet her with a similar amount of effort.

But being the person who she feels safe enough to cry with?

That's a kind of intimacy like no other. Offering her safe space and the kind of physical contact she needed to let go for awhile... there was nothing sexual involved, just two humans being human together in pain and comfort.

Intimacy comes in friendly touch, in fixing someone's hair or collar, scratching the spot on their back that they can't reach. (I think of those grooming touches as a monkey-mind socialization.)

Intimacy can be instant and temporary, or can build over time.

and the thing that I finally understand, after years and years of working on my "trust issues" and anxiety and depression, is that it's always always always based on *mutual* consent and connection.

Post two is coming up.
There's a dark underbelly that I wanted to keep separate from this particular discussion.

Today is a good day.
Today I feel strong and whole.
I wonder if I will ever get over feeling so lucky, so happy about getting myself here.

I could have stayed where my childhood left me, tied up in gender stereotypes and my feelings of inadequacy.
I could have been too afraid to risk the pain inherent in risk and change.

I didn't, and I wasn't.

And I am proud of myself for that.

I say that so infrequently that I wanted to record it, meaning to encourage myself to take pride in my accomplishments more frequently. I slide between being reluctant to ackowledge and outright bragging, the grey space in between is hard for me to find.
Sigh.
Subtlety, I can not haz. Oh well. Knowing yourself counts for something!

Learned the hard way that slow and steady, consistent work is the most important way to make lasting change in my life. (I do know that probably sounds obvious. I'm okay with that, I need to keep saying it to myself, regardless.)

I can do a lot of things now, after healing from injuries, and with long practice, that made me feel less-than broken/wrong, and weird as a child and teenager.

Back then I Made a lot of assumptions about what was normal, and I try not to blame myself for that. Learning that "normal" doesnt exist was actually really useful.

What are the important lessons you have learned about how the world works, and how you fit in to that?

Yesterday I was due to meet my seester at the gym, we were going to work out together. She had car trouble and had to cancel; I was kind of proud of myself for not finding an excuse not to go, but I already had woken up, gotten dressed, had something to eat (a couple handfuls of Cheerios, but still) and had found my shoes. So when she texted me I decided to just go anyway. I'm at the point where, after having neglected to work out for over 8 weeks, shit HURTS. my lower back has been sore like it used to be, my surgery knee has been tender and a bit wibbly, my shoulder is cranky and crunchy, and my middle back makes cracking noises when I touch my toes.

bad news man.

So I haul ass over there. Took the new car. Weird to feel like "I" fit in with the shiny Audi, Porsche, Prius, etcetera in the parking lot, but I did. I blended. (WAT)

And I go and get on the not the treadmill, but the elliptical trainer, because I wanted to have the option to work my arms, back, and get a bit of a twisting stretch in. I needed it. It felt good.

I got tired and bored pretty quickly. The last few times I have been to the gym I was either meeting my trainer, who definitely keeps me engaged and interested (I am a bit sad she isn't working there anymore), or I've been meeting tshuma, wrenb, or I run into angelkatharine and at least have a bit of a chat. But twenty minutes on the elliptical is considerably less fun when you have nothing to do but be in your brain (now granted, I mentally wrote some more for NaNoWriMo) and nobody to interact with. And I got fatigued after only about six minutes. I blame my not maintaining the habit of regular movement. Expect that there's lactic acid or stress chemicals buildup in my muscles and bloodstream.

(Side note: I know the body excretes waste chemicals in something like six ways: through sweat, tears, piss, shit, and from the genitals via ejaculatory fluid or weeping. that's only five, I wonder if I will remember what the sixth is or if I am misremembering. Point being, I wake up nowadays, sometimes, with my eyes just LEAKING. It's weird and a little disconcerting. But I'm guessing it's because I haven't been working out to a sweat very often recently, so my body has to find another means.)

Anyway, I do make myself do the twenty minutes, and then I go to the foyer where there's exercise balls and foam core rollers and mats, and I start doing some flexibility work for my hips, rolling big slow circles while seated on one of the exercise balls. Felt pretty good, and I was waking up my core muscles too.

And then I see Etty. She's the trainer that my former trainer Tal had told me I might enjoy working with. And we get to talking, and I was *sure* I had sent her an email or a text telling her I had an interest in training together, but she said she never received any such text or email. And I shrug, I don't know if I forgot or not... But it turns out she had an appointment be cancelled for the space that starts in ten minutes, and would I like to work out, gently, as a getting to know you kind of assessment and do we work well together. I'd been debating if I wanted to go in and explore the weights again like I had the last time; and I figure, sure! And she's willing to comp me the hour as we get acquainted. It was like the serendipity fairy came by and sprinkled serendipity dust all over us(me) to get me back into working out regularly!

We have a good getting to know you chat where I fill out the goals for working out worksheet and I find out that Etty also used to teach (and she says Israeli kids don't respect teachers the way kids here do, and I didn't disabuse her of her notion, which was maybe kind, maybe not) but she really likes teaching one on one, so physical training is a good gig for her. I tell her I have joined NaNoWriMo and a little about what it does, and she says, "maybe you should be a writer!"

and I think, maybe I SHOULD be a writer.

And then we go work out a bit, she has me do lunges and squats and moving stretches and checks my form (which is almost like I forgot the million little corrections Tal used to give me, in just over two months) and we talk about how important it is to have correct form, which I couldn't agree more on. I make sure she understands about my surgery leg and the tension from all that adaptation my body had to do while it was injured and uncorrected. And I just realized yesterday that I passed the third anniversary of surgery on Nov. 1, and how good my body feels in retrospect, now. So many little things that really add up. Fuck that first surgeon who tried to tell me that I didn't need surgery, that lots of people do just fine without an ACL, because now I can move and dance and work out and I. DON'T. FUCKING. HURT. ALL THE TIME. Not anymore. Seriously, fuck that guy. I'm so glad I got bk2wto recommend his surgeon, that guy was PHENOMENAL.

(end digression)

so we try me on plank position and i can't hold it long, and I keep shifting around trying to hold it and she asks me to hold still, and I make it about another three seconds before I just FOLD. dammit. welp this is where I am now, just need to know where I am now so I can set goals appropriately and then work to meet them.

and then we try my pushups ability in a couple different form factors, and she puts me in this frame to have me hold myself up and lift my knees up for core work and wow that was hard, so we try it on a weight bench lying down instead, like swimming instead of like bicycling I realized after I was doing it wrong. More core work for me! More EVERYTHING for me. *sigh* Okay. Need a little work to get back where I was. And to meet my goals of being able to do inversions and maybe start doing some circus arts work. Fun, playful goals. I need fun playful goals. And having a smart trainer who understands about teaching, is a damn good thing.

So I signed up for a new package with Etty. We start next Friday morning at ten, and I'm looking forward to it.

My knee and inner thigh by the back of the leg felt super tender yesterday, which means that the Two Day Rule of workouts was in operation... If it hurts/is sore the day after, yeah, good workout. If it's sore TWO days after, you got into the deep part of the muscle, and this is where the structural rebuilding happens, or so I understand it.

So I took today off with Tal. I wanted to test this new range of motion and see whether the pain I've been feeling the last few weeks might have been sorted out for good.

It's um weird not to hurt? It's also still weird that I can look down and my feet are parallel. It's a bit weird to feel strong and capable... But I freaking LOVE IT.

All of it.

Biked into downtown today for Thursday night live, they close part of the main drag and clubs, restaurants, city departments, entertainers, and even a politician had kiosks set up. Met up with WrenB and her kids for a little bit, which was fun. Missed seeing Mr. WrenB, though, which made me sad.

Found a kiosk for tiny theater in town I didn't know about. Gonna try to check em out. Also a production of Pirates of Penzance is upcoming at the larger community theater, which SCORE!

Biking is still a bit of a workout. Gonna need to take more frequent rides to train up for transportation around the playa next month.

Breaking in the shiny SHINY gold Docs I bought for playa wear is good fun. Apparently my givafuck is broken now, I don't care what anyone thinks if I love them. \o/

OK, time for bed. Tempted to add a tmi post but it's really late and I need to try to sleep.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Yesterday was a busy day full of movement!

Started my day with a workout, me, Tal, and tshuma, and it went well, I think. I keep forgetting that I've become, actually, kind of strong. It's fun when a workout that makes me sweat a bit doesn't leave me sore afterwards. Good chat with tshuma and angelkatharine afterwards in the locker room.

Home for a quick lunch with Jeff, we split the leftover pasta-cheese-salami-veggies salad before I headed out to have a chiropractic adjustment done.

Here's how it goes. Larry and I chat for a bit about what's going on physically. He has me lie faced down on the table, which is articulated to do various kinds of adjustments. He puts one wedge under my right hip and another under my left thigh, and a hot pack/hot towel on my back. He does several kinds of myofascial pressure point releases around my hips and glutes. At that point I start to feel kind of stoned, actually, between the heat and the releases. Very relaxing.

Then he does several small adjustments using the table, and my goal is to maintain the relaxation so he can do the work of the adjustments. After the small adjustments he did some more dramatic adjustments at my hip/sacroiliac joint, and after that settled in he checked the mid-back stiffness caused by a friend hugging me and "cracking my back" a lifetime or three ago, and did a bit of adjustment there. The final stage is I roll over onto my back, and he helps me stretch those lower back muscles and glutes with an assisted/resistance stretch. It was a damn good follow up to the workout.

After seeing Larry, I ran an errand then home, did some writing and reading and got some dinner up using leftovers components, and at 7 I went back into town and got cash so I could go to 5 rhythms dance class! and I danced for something like three hours and I basically STOPPED THINKING AT ALL for that whole time. Just moved. That was amazing. I was a little worried about how the adjustment would incorporate with that kind of moving... but I havent been to dance for ... three months at least. Haven't been since before I started with the diabetes meds and blood tests. (!)

Dancing was *great* but I also received several really lovely heartwarming welcome hugs. Gosh.
I knew I needed it but it's one thing to know you need something and something else to have it offered up to you. That was WONDERFUL. People were really glad to see me! (wow, what?)

I am sore today, some from the dancing (ow my feet) and some tenderness probably from all three things I was active in doing yesterday, It's a good thing though. A little discomfort is a lovely reminder that I'm really and for true LIVING in my body and using it.

Time to go make some things! I'll see about posting photos when I am done...

Is your body YOU?
Is it all of you, part of you?
Does your body carry "you" around?
Is your body different from "you"?

I had a knee injury for fifteen years. As of November, that's 1/3 of my life. I had ACL replacement surgery 2.5 years ago.
And I've now been doing prehab, rehab, and working with a trainer for three years.

When do I get used to THIS body? This body is tons stronger and more flexible. This body can Do Stuff I wasn't able to do before. In this body my feet stay parallel instead of duck-footing to try and keep the knee stable. This body can balance on one leg to put a sock on, and hold a high plank position for almost a full minute, and roll out of bed without effort or pain. So many changes.

I keep getting shocked by this body... In good ways, true, and I know intellectually that I've worked hard to get here. But my gut, my feelings, keep expecting ... Like that this is too good to be true? Like somehow, without warning, I will automagically return to pain, and weakness, and brokenness.

Why can't I believe that my body has become strong? Why is it so hard to use that word to describe myself?

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

When I was little I thought I was just BAD at chores. They were so hard, so much work. And Mom made things like making beds and folding sheets look effortless.
I've been realizing lately that I bought into the childhood meme of if it's hard for you to do, you're not meant to get good at it.
Which sucks, because determination has been dearly bought, down the years.

Another take on the first thing, is: My Mom was Strong. Like PHYSICALLY strong, because she Did Stuff all the time.
And I didn't realize till now, THAT'S the lesson I wish I'd learned. It's not the one I did then, but I can learn it now.

Today I went to the gym again. Ran into angelkatharine toward the end of my hour working with Tal, said hi, got to check in briefly once Tal and I were done.

Today Tal ran me through three different supersets of ten minutes length, and I had to keep moving the whole time, for ten minutes straight.
And it was WORK.
But it didn't kill me, not even a little bit (though those long muscles at the side-back are sore right now...)

I did that work, three sets of ten minutes not stopping, and it totally Did Not Suck.
And I could do All The Things, and do them well.

(Though I find that when I'm totally engaged in weights or body-weight training, I spend all my mental forces making sure my form is good, and I lose the ability to count, even to ten.)

This is a Thing. This is a Thing that I can DO, now.

Somehow I have to accept the wonder at my own ...ability.
And somehow I have to accept this as The New Normal because there's Shit I Wanna Do that involves me getting even stronger and more flexible, even than this.

After so long of struggling to Do Stuff... Now I can.

(this post brought to you by making the Guest Bed and shaking out the sheets and blankets and making everything smooth and pretty, and I Just Did It. It didn't hurt and it wasn't any huge effort, and this is... this is uncharted territory. Physical competence and emotional equilibrium. I've never had both at the same time.)

So here's the thing: people pick on other people. They call people mean names, hit, shove, intimidate, say and do horrible things.

I know we usually soothe the people who've suffered such things with declarations of no-fault: "that girl is insecure and lashing out" "that guy was bullied as a child and he's continuing the cycle" "it's not about you, it's about THEM."

I'm about to say something that may get people pissed off at me. I've come to believe that we look at this situation, of bullying and harassment, and folks often say, it's all the bully's fault. Or perhaps that it's society's fault, or that parents have failed, or schools didn't provide proper guidance.

Believe me, I understand that bullying, harassment, domineering and controlling, assholish behavior has a bewildering complexity of causes.

And people also will point out (because often times the media and some individuals need reminding) that "victim-blaming", as a thing, is unfair, wrong, or bad.

Unfair, I grant. Unhelpful, I concede, and bad? Victim blaming is a mark of both lazy thinking and dishonest, delusional assumptions about interpersonal dynamics.

Wrong it may be to say the victim was at blame for their victimhood, but is it entirely incorrect?

I was alternately bullied and ignored throughout school. I entered into relationships with sarcastic, belittling partners and stayed there for years. I know now that patterns of behavior I learned at home shaped my childhood social experiences, my choices of romantic partners, and my willingness to trust... Actually to trust anyone at all, was a huge struggle, for many years.

I gained confidence and life experience, learned to thrive in nourishing relationships, and learned to survive and end verbally abusive relationships in work and romantic life.

What I eventually learned was that my assumptions influenced how my reality manifested. If you feel insecure, it shows in how you move, stand, hold yourself. Confidence or insecurity show in tone of voice and in your word choices too.

Humans everywhere in the world read body language fluently. Bullies and predators, consciously (or unconsciously) select people for body language that shows insecurity or wishy-washiness.

Radical honesty and being an adult demands that we must look deeply and unflinchingly at ourselves so we can solve the problem with accurate information, not self delusion.

* Am I complicit in being picked on, in any way?
* Do my assumptions about how I will be treated, or how the world works, affect how I AM treated, or how the world responds to me?
* If either of these are true, what can I do to recognize and change my habits of behavior and thought?

Suppose you've done serious reflection on your life and your attitudes or expectations to recognize that you contribute(d) to your own victimhood in some ways. You may expect people in your life to be rude, dismissive, disparaging, or sarcastic. You may have internal voices telling you you aren't good enough, aren't worth the effort.

And then you realize that you would NEVER speak even to your worst enemy with the language and tone you hear in your head. (The moment I realized this is clear in my head, even eight years later.)

Please be welcome to feel feelings about this discovery, but try to just feel them, not to judge yourself or beat yourself up for it. That helps nobody figure it out, it just gets in the way of discovery and change to a better paradigm for your inner sanctum.

It's definitely possible to start learning to present a more confident façade.
Think about the truism "fake it till you make it." Look around at people you know, or people you see, who look confident and calm, people who move happy, if that makes sense. People who move fluently and with purpose. If you're like I was at this stage, you're probably envious of those people. Use that. You want what they've got, start emulating them.

One of the first things I consciously did to conquer my fears was change how I walked. I lived in a not-great neighborhood, and so I thought about how to look like a not-target. I started to walk big, wear shoes that let me walk stompy, fast, strong. I stopped walking while reading or while checking my phone. I looked at people around me, and kept my chin up. Made eye contact occasionally, when I felt like it. That started happening more often as I built confidence. Nodding or waving or smiling slightly at neighbors started feeling comfortable. I worked on having straighter posture, and open, relaxed body language.

Now I look at the process as giving myself acting lessons. Really, they're acting lessons for your life, rather like the advice I've heard of dressing up to the job you want to have.

As an adult who's working to solve a problem, you'll immediately start to recognize victim body language or posture as you observe others, and how different it looks from confident body language or posture. And if your goal is to change your own behavior, you can start selecting habits that work better for your life, and work to change how you present yourself to the world.

The best part of fake it till you make it? As your body learns, your brain comes to believe what the body tells it. As you practice confident stances and postures, a strong movement style, aware and alert reactions to the people in your environment, not only will people treat you differently, YOU will start to feel differently about yourself. And that's a really big part of the solution.

Start research on techniques to build up your own resilience, tough mindedness, and compassion for yourself. This kind of interior remodeling job is worth the effort. And, if you already possess these skills? Please think about reaching out and lending a hand to someone who needs them.

(And let me say THANK you to all the families and teachers out there who are consciously working to raise strong, self confident children. You give me hope for the future.)



This has been my Week Four entry for therealljidol, and the prompt was a quotation from Dr.Martin Luther King Jr:
“Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent”.

Beta-readings done by alycewilson !

Please go read and enjoy my colleagues' entries here. To vote for my entry, link is *here* scroll down to Tribe 5. soon after Monday April 7th, once the poll's posted.

Thank you for reading!


My Recommended reading list on this topic:
Oriah Mountain Dreamer's The Invitation
Trina Paulus' Hope For The Flowers
Dr. Patricia Evans' The Verbally Abusive Relationship
SARK's Bodacious Book of Succulence (and all her other books)
Dr. Jean Shinoda Bolen's Goddesses in Everywoman and Gods in Everyman
Osho's COURAGE: The Joy of Living Dangerously