Monthly Archives: August 2019

Graduation

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This past weekend was indeed very special for me. I did not go on vacation or to any place where I don’t go several times a week. I went to a spot that feels like home and is incredibly important to me. But what happened there was different than any other time I have spent there, and I left feeling grateful, loved, grounded, and even though I can put my ego aside when I am practicing yoga, yesterday I felt proud… because yesterday was the official graduation celebrating attaining 300 hours of Yoga Teacher Training with my gypsy soul sisters. We actually finished with our training back in June, but our studio was in the process of relocating, so we waited to celebrate in our beautiful new space. It was worth the wait.

Chanting with the sunlight pouring through the windows of our beautiful new space.

Last August, I decided to deepen my yoga practice by enrolling in Teacher Training, not really sure where the journey would ultimately take me. I felt stagnant and that there was some sense of purpose missing from my life, which is not an uncommon feeling for someone like me. I was a high school teacher and I loved my job with every fiber of my being. When MS decided I could no longer perform my job in the way it deserved to be done, I was lost. I had no job, no identity, and no purpose. I had been practicing regularly for about a year when I was given a scholarship to the yoga studio because the owner happens to be passionate about MS and has a foundation that funds scholarships for people like me, because yoga memberships are expensive! I was so grateful to her for seeing something in me (really just through Instagram) and I dove in, putting myself in front of as many teachers as possible.

This amazing yogi is also a champion for those with MS and I could never repay what she has given me by offering me that scholarship because it changed my whole life. Instead of paying her back I hope to be able to pay it forward…

The class I connected most with happened to be a Friday morning class with Maria, who ultimately brought me on the journey through teacher training to certification. I was drawn to her passion about being true to the ancient teachings and even though I never thought it would be the case, I loved the harmonium and the chanting, connecting us all by the simple unified vibration it brings about. So when she started talking about her teacher training, i was there to find out more. I committed on the spot, and I’m so glad I did.

The one and only Maria. The original Gypsy Soul. The radical teacher. I could sit and listen to her talk about anything yoga forever and ever. She’s my yoga hero.

Bruce likes to say that I was married to yoga for ten months. It isn’t easy to commit to anything when you have MS. I spent two weekends a month in class, studying during the weeks, practicing every day, It was intense and amazing and my head would spin with the huge amount of deep knowledge that was being passed down to me. Everything is harder when you have MS, and there were many times when I thought I might throw in the towel. I have to read things many more times than my classmates because of cognitive issues related to MS. Practice itself is harder for me because I don’t feel my feet (neuropathy) and sometimes I physically press my feet down where they need to be because muscle has memory, and that’s the only thing I can do to train them. And anyone with MS knows that balance is not easy, but I continue to work until sweat is pouring off of me. That’s just MS. Let’s not forget about breast cancer leaving me with limited range of motion in my left arm because of lymph node removal and lumpectomy, and a fused spine that inhibits twisting. Most people would listen to that laundry list of issues, and dismiss me as being a hot mess. But my teacher and my classmates embraced me with all my issues. Instead of doubting me for being “disabled”, they complimented me and never wasted an opportunity to lift me up and tell me to look at what I can do, despite it all.

Our small but mighty group.

My life is forever changed from taking on something I never thought I could accomplish, and yet I did. Yoga is about detaching from ego and I do that quite easily on my mat, but to think of how hard I worked to attain this (so that I can pass it on to teach others) makes me feel strong and proud. Since taking on this challenge, I see just about everything differently. I am more aware of myself and my body, how I react to others, and the mark I am leaving on the planet. I hope I will always lean on these teachings to guide me, because there is a reason that they have been passed down for thousands of years.

Special family came to witness this. My uncle did YTT in the 1980’s before yoga was even a thing. Hes wearing a t-shirt that he earned back then (I think he said 35 years ago), and its tattered and torn… and so very special just like he and my aunt are to me.

My message is pretty clear, I hope. For anyone who struggles with a disability, do not let it stand in the way of your dreams. We are all capable of anything as long as we are patient with ourselves and we use the tools that are available to help us. I don’t care if I was the weakest link in my class because my life (aside from being 20 years older than one of my yoga sisters and 10 years older than the other) has unfolded in a very different way than anyone else’s. I. Still. Did. It. And so can you.

Mama B and Bill are so supportive. They enjoyed this much more than when they came to watch me kill myself doing a Spartan race.

(Maria, Justina, and Liz… I have no words. My gratitude for you is deeper than I could express, and my love for you girls is endless. Thank you for traveling this journey with me, and I know that now that our paths have crossed we will all continue traveling together. And Bruce: my rock, my best friend, my biggest fan. You may have felt like i was married to yoga but without you I would be nothing. Thank you for being my everything. And no picture of you because I know you wouldn’t want it.)

*** NOTE TO MY READERS: I am taking a family vacation so I’ll be taking time off to be fully present there, and I’ll be back with new content on September 10th. “See” you then! 

 

 

 

Summer Camp

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Because it is summer time, I find myself thinking a lot about my younger days and how I spent the summers. For me, I spent the majority of my formative years at a summer camp that was truly a special environment for me, and just about everyone else I know who spent as many years there as I did. I think I spent 11 or 12 years there, all summer, working my way up through their ranks from camper, to “working senior”, to CIT (counselor in training), to counselor.

This is the 1st month cabin picture and I think it was my 2nd to last year as a camper.

I have written before on this blog how horribly I was bullied when my parents moved us from rural New Hampshire, to Bergen County, NJ, a New York City influenced suburb just 20 minutes from the city. I hated NJ, and spent each year literally counting the days until the next season of camp. I began counting the day I tearfully said goodbye to my camp friends at the end of the summer, and continued to count until the next opening day of camp was upon us.

At camp, I was loved and accepted rather than bullied. I learned that I could do many things that boosted my self esteem, which I was either too afraid to try in front of the assholes in NJ, or else I just didn’t have the opportunity. My fellow campers were amazing friends, and living with a group of girls in a cabin does something to bond people very deeply together. My counselors were amazing, always there with a kind word or a shoulder to cry on. We all kept in touch via snail mail (the lost art of letter-writing), because there was no internet, no email, no cell phones, and in fact a long-distance phone call could cost an arm and a leg.

Beautiful Lake Netimus, where I spent so much time learning the basics of kayaking and canoeing before taking those skills to the Delaware River. I also earned my ALS (Advanced Lifesaving) card in that water.

Aside from the daily activities that I loved (and got to choose myself), which for me, included swimming, kayaking, canoeing, tennis, gymnastics, and even the art of stained glass (which I continued to do for many years in a little at home studio my dad fashioned for me in the basement of our house), the traditions were beautiful and have left an indelible mark on my heart to this day.

I think I have at least 6 more of these pins. They were earned by serving on Camp Council (just like student council), plus I also have a 5 year pin and a 10 year pin.

For as much as I was knocked down to my lowest as I waited for each summer session to start, it was there that my confidence was built up and I learned that I had value regardless of what happened the rest of the year. I finally felt like I could be me, without fear or judgement. I know for sure that all of my experiences at summer camp gave me the confidence I was lacking even if I wasn’t strong enough to use it at home until years later.

I am so incredibly grateful that my parents sent me for eight weeks every summer, because I needed it. I am thankful for having so many wonderful experiences when I was young and healthy, and fully capable of participating in all there was to offer at camp.  I am also fully appreciative of the many forms of social media that have reconnected me with special friends from my past who played a role in helping this lost soul discover who she was when she really needed it.

This is a collection of memorabilia from one summer in particular, and i have many more of these memories.This songbook, all nicely bound is not how we had them all those years ago. This one was a gift from a beloved friend.

Now, 25 years later, with MS by my side, I am even more grateful for the days when I could be outside doing what I loved without fear of overheating due to heat intolerance. I fondly remember trekking up the many hills, without worrying about drop foot. I roamed freely, not thinking about the vertigo, or the crippling fatigue that now hits me from out of nowhere. I slept like a rock from all the activity and sunshine, where now I seldom sleep through a night due to intense “painsomnia”. Being young and free, without a care in the world is how I will always remember my camp days.

These memories are vividly etched upon my soul, and they are the very best memories I have from my childhood. If I had to trade camp for not being being bullied at home, I wouldn’t do it because that’s how important this place and the girls who were there with me have been in the scope of my life.

I think the biggest lesson I have carried forward with me from those days is to enjoy every moment and live in the present. I wished so many days away while I was counting down each year, because that’s what helped me get through the tough times. Now I am in a place where I never wish days away, because between MS and breast cancer, I have learned that good days are not guaranteed and life is meant to be lived to the fullest. We are only given a certain amount of time on this planet, and I feel beyond blessed to have spent so much of mine  at that little camp tucked away in Milford, Pennsylvania.

“The Bowls”… a local swimming hole we could walk to for a dip or to sit underneath those falls.

Tattoos

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RrI never thought I’d be the kind of girl who gets tattoos. Where I grew up it was not something you saw much of, or perhaps the time period had something to do with it. After all, I am a 70’s baby, and I’d even go out on a limb to say that it was more common to see someone smoking weed than walking around all tatted up. I got my first tattoo pretty spur of the moment on an anniversary trip with my husband. We both got one… and then spent the rest of the day cracking up, wondering who the heck we were! It’s very small, but full of meaning, and I’m so glad I didn’t just get random tattoos when I was younger that I might come to regret.

Husband and wife tattoos, which we got on our 16th wedding anniversary.

My next foray into being tattooed was not my choice. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, before beginning radiation therapy, I had what is known as a “mapping session”. At this appointment, they lay you out on the radiation table, adjusting every aspect of the tilt and even down to how you position your head and how you hold your hands. They line everything up so the laser beams aim only at the area to receive radiation, avoiding the heart, lungs, any vital organs really, and even the other breast. Once the radiation oncologist approves (with the use of scans and computer technology) of your position, they give you tiny little tattoos to be used for lining you up exactly the right way for your treatment. I think I have seven on my back and three on my breast. They are so small and hard to spot if you don’t know what you’re looking for, and they simply look like blue freckles. I am grateful for them because they allowed the radiation therapy to hit the exact spot(s) where my cancer was, without endangering any other parts of my body.

This is the machine that I spent every single day on for six weeks of my life.

So one day last week I was on a breast cancer support group online, and one of the ladies was inquiring about having these itty bitty tattoos removed. I was very taken aback by this because although I know we all have our insecurities, but for someone who has fought and beaten breast cancer, it seemed such a vain and unimportant detail. I did a little bit of stalking and I learned that this woman is five years older than I am, and seemingly has a lovely family, which made it all seem so much odder to me. Other women in the group were asking why she would want them removed and she said that they reminded her of a horrible time in her life and that she hated them.

This is where my glass-half-full personality jumped in. Although some of the ladies talked about how they insisted on invisible UV markings (who knew this was a possibility??) or they used sharpie markers  and stickers (which didn’t sound all that safe to me when you are doing six weeks of daily radiation), most women did not understand why it was such a big deal. Would I have gotten these little dots if I didn’t need to? Of course not! But as part of treatment for breast cancer, I am kind of proud of them. They remind me of a hard fought battle that I won, and no one sees them but me and my husband. The only other person who ever noticed them was my dermatologist during my yearly full body check. Even in a bathing suit, no one notices, and if they did, I would proudly share my story.

These are my battle scars, and just like the various scars that I have gotten from falling, scratching myself raw, or burning myself thanks to MS and the role it plays in my life, they might not be beautiful to others, but to me they are. They are my souvenirs for living tough and playing the hand I was dealt like it was the one I wanted.

I never expected to be a supermodel, and even if I did, airbrushing can take care of anything superficial. But it can not build strength or resilience the way these various imperfections on my body have. I’d rather be perfectly imperfect and strong AF (ask a millennial if you don’t know what that means) than dishonest about who I am and how I got here.

In fact, shortly after I finished my treatment for breast cancer, I got another tattoo. It’s where I can see it and admire it every day (which I do) because it’s a reminder to me of how strong I am even when I don’t feel like I am. If I could see those little freckly tattoos maybe I wouldn’t have gotten one that is right in front of my face all the time… or maybe I would have.

My double-awareness tattoo… I love everything about it and it is my daily reminder of all that I have been through.

Going through breast cancer was not a fun experience, and I didn’t mean to insinuate that it was when I told the woman about why these tattoos don’t bother me. I think anyone who has had breast cancer would agree that it’s not a fun time. But the journey there brought me to where I am right now: deeply happy, amazingly healthy (despite multiple sclerosis), and full of gratitude for every single day I am given to enjoy on this planet. All it would take is a slight shift in perspective, and maybe this woman could be enjoying some kick ass lemonade with me, instead of just sucking on the darn lemons. Just sayin’.