Month: August 2012

You’re Vain

by Manuela, posted in Being Present, Relationships

“You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you” – Carly Simon

Yeah you. I’m talking about you. You know who you are – the one who is reading this.

Every one of you. Every single person reading this.

You-are-vain. Vain, I say.

As I write this post I’m sitting in a pub listening to brave souls who have gathered the courage to play at a jazz meetup. One girl sang “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon and it got me thinking about the way I was feeling earlier today.

Here’s the thing, I was feeling tense and anxious for some reason and my mind started racing ahead to where I was going – my former place of employment RL Solutions. I’m not sure what was going on in this great big abyss of a mind I have but I was thinking of what they would think of me and what I’ve been up to lately.  There has been a lot of changes going on in my life, and many of these people I havent’ seen in about a year and a half.  I was very uptight and nervous.  I made sure to doll myself up.  I thought I looked good, and I wanted to make sure others thought the same thing.

 

But you know what?

They don’t care. They don’t want to know what’s going on in my life to the extent as  I thought they should. Why would they? Sure, they may comment that I look nice, but does it make a difference in their life?  No way. They have their own things to think of. I’m embarrased to say, but I think that I subconsciously wanted this night to end up being about me and not the real reason why I was going there – which was to celebrate the grand opening of their new location, their open house.

Even at this moment I think about what people are thinking of me. I’m sitting at a table typing away on on my phone, listening to the music. How big of me to think that instead of these people enjoying the bluegrass music being played that they’d be more interested in me typing away. Sure Smartie,  you’re THAT important!

So, tell me, how many times does this happen to you? How often do you think everything is all about you? I bet that you have thought that the closed door to your boss’s office, or the many meetings being held lately is because of you even though there is no evidence pointing towards that? And how about that comment someone made while you were in in a group of people that hit your right in the heart, you just know it was  directed towards you, even though there is no reason at all for it?  Or how about that everyone should you because you’re perfect, your good looking and you have never done anything wrong?  It’s always the other person who is at fault, never you.

Does all of the above really mean that we’re really vain? Hell yeah. We tend to think that everything is about us.

What else would we call it?

It’s not pride.  Deffinitely not pride.  Pride and vanity are two different things.  However, I believe that they are often used synonymously.  You can be proud of yourself without being vain.  My belief is that pride is more about your opinion about yourself, and being vain is about what you want others to think about you.  Like not so smart me today wanted everyone to think that I have it together and I’m Queen Thang.

I’m not saying to not think highly of yourself, not to take care of yourself.  Make sure you look nice, pretty.  Do your best with everything.  Doll yourself up.  Be PROUD!  But next time you’re thinking “it’s about me” step back and think is it really?  You just might be vain.

The Day The Music Died

by Manuela, posted in Living, Travel

“A long long time ago / I can still remember how / That music used to make me smile” – Don McLean

I can remember like as if it were just yesterday that I was running home after school, searching for a big black bristol board in the closet and pasting white letters across the top spelling out the word Musician.  That day we were assigned a project on what we wanted to be when we grow up.  I didn’t have to think twice because I already knew that I wanted to be a musician.   I believe I was in grade seven, because that was when we were able to play the instruments at school.  I played clarinet, but got my friend to sign out her flute for me.  I taught myself how to play the flute, as well as the piano.  Anything that allowed me to play music.

I love music.  My dream was to be a part of an orchestra or symphony and travel the world.  I had it all planned out. I was going to see the big cities of the world by day, and by night play in the great music halls, on stage in front of thousands of people.  I was going to play for ballets, musicals, famous singers. I wanted it all.

I’m not a musician.  I’m not even that good anymore.  I don’t remember how to play, how to read music very well.  I haven’t played an instrument since high school.  I’m not sure what happened and why I let that dream slide off into the side lines but I did.  I kind of regret it, but I believe everything happens for a reason.  But it didn’t deter me from my love of listening to music.  I love all kinds – classical, rock, jazz etc.  I even love what is played on the radio right now (and some of that is even questionable!)

This summer I’ve been attending jazz meet ups every so often.  I think it’s an awesome concept where people get together and just play.  You don’t have to know anyone, as long as to can play music, or love listening to music, you’re welcome.  I think it’s mind blowing how people who have never played together before, just get together and play – and sometimes without sheet music.  They just feel the music.  And the sounds are amazing.  Wow.

I’m working up the courage to get up and sing.  Maybe when I decide to have a few drinks in me I’ll be able to. 🙂

However, sometimes I’ve noticed things not going so well at the meetups.  There is always that ONE person who shows up and changes things. You know this type of person, the one who doesn’t want to play nice and wants to do his own thing?  When you’re playing music within a group, being that way isn’t a good thing. It never is a good thing, but it’s somehow worse like this.  There is this guy who sits there and plays his own thing. He doesn’t listen to what’s going on around him and he throws everyone off.  The rest of the musicians struggle to keep the beat.  It’s bad.  Really bad.  And when he leaves, people relax, things pick up and the place becomes lively.  It’s smokin’!

Last Friday I went to see Don McClean play at the CNE.  I was excited to go and hear him play his old classics like Vincent, Jerusalem, Winterwood, And I Love You So and the famous American Pie and also him playing solo.  It already started out to be a gorgeous night.  The temperature was warm, I was outdoors sitting on the lawn, I had great view of the stage. When Don walked onto the stage, I was even able to walk right up to the front and stand within twenty feet of him.  I was pumped!!  Everything was perfect!

And then about ten minutes into it, the concert took a dive.  A steep incline type of dive. The concert ended up being mostly crap.

Seriously, it was.  He played only a few of his old work, and then was playing all this stuff that wasn’t really him.  These songs weren’t what made Don McLean “Don McLean.”  It appears as if he was playing these songs to fit in with today’s music, with what most of society wants to hear.  It was crap.  Let me say it again….it was CRAP.  At one point he started singing a song called “In A Museum” and I thought, OMG, this guy has lost the plot!! What the heck happened?!

You’re probably wondering what my lightbulb moment is in the post. Here it goes: While observing these two separate events I noticed how easily it is to get wrapped up in yourself and not notice what is going on around you and not be true to who you are.  And how good music can easily turn bad when you don’t feel it anymore, when you just want to be famous. Things don’t jive, they don’t work.  It’s amazing how one person can do this and ruin it for everyone around them.  But what can you do?  Nothing really.  I guess you just have to take it in strides and wait patiently and move on.  Pitty really.  I wonder when the music died for them?

I did realize another thing though.  I miss playing.  I want to play the piano, and learn the guitar.  Life is pretty hectic these days, and finding time to play will be hard – I find it difficult at times to find time to write.  So I’m thinking about taking up singing lessons.  I have a friend who will be able to teach me when I have time and also because it’s something I can practice anywhere, like in the shower, in the car, and even in the kitchen (should make the cooking a bit easier)!  Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do!

Seeing Red

by Manuela, posted in Food, Living, Love, Relationships

“How did the Italians eat spaghetti before the advent of the tomato? Was there such a thing as tomato-less Neapolitan pizza?” – Elizabeth David, An Omelette and a Glass of Wine

I have no idea.  But I do know is that today I was seeing red.  Tomato red that is.

As the end of August approaches, it brings with it many things.  It’s sort of like New Year’s Eve but for the summer.  It marks the start of school, the soon to arrive autumn, and for us of Italian background, it marks tomato sauce time – my dreaded time of year.

I hate “doing tomatoes,” as us Italians put it.  I hate it with such a passion.  In the past I used to do anything to get out of it – complain that I was feeling sick, made sure that I was scheduled to work on that day, and while I was married I even convinced my ex to go help my parents while I watched our daugther as she was too young to be around this sort of thing.

You see, making tomato sauce isn’t easy.  It’s a full days worth of work, at least about eight hours worth, depending how many jars your planning to make.  So last week when my Mom asked if I was around to help, I said yes even though my mind was saying “NO, NO, NO!!”

Today we filled about one hundred jars for two families, and we were about five adults working.  And it was a lot of work.  I received a comment stating “I hope you’re enjoying it because it’s about a dollar an hour for your time.”  Sure that may be the case, but you know what? I was in for a pleasant surprise.  It wasn’t anything like I remembered.  Mind you, it has been about seven or eight years since I’ve last helped, so I guess you can say that I’m seeing this differently now.  I enjoyed the work, the company, the experience and most of all seeing my daughter get into it.  What a day!  Knowing that we all worked together like a community to make something from scratch, something wholesome felt really good.  So it working out to be a dollar an hour for my time isn’t a correct estimation. This experience was priceless. There were three generations of people working together today towards the same goal.  It was awesome.

For me today, this is what “doing tomatoes” was all about:

My daughter learning the ropes from my aunt and Mom.  First, my aunt and my daughter washed the tomatoes in a bin together.

Then my Mom and daughter lined them up, to get them ready to be partially boiled.

The next step is to boil these little suckers until they almost split.  Once taken out of the pot, some do actually split.  The ones that don’t you stab them with a fork.  Kind of like what you do to a potato prior to putting it in the microwave.

At this point my daughter decides to take a break to tend to her garden.  Nothing like teaching her where the food comes from, what it takes to grow the food.  Not “it comes from the grocery store” like I’ve heard from other kids in the past.

Those of us not taking a break got to press the tomatoes.  You put the tomatoes into this little machine that separates the pulp from the skin.  This is the messy part of the job.  Check out the juice!!!

Next, you put the juice back into the pot and let it boil for about ten to fifteen minutes.  This thickens it up into a nicethick sauce.  That pot holds about twenty five liters of sauce! Try picking that baby up once it’s ready….which we had to do.

And while the first batch is cooking, we line up the empty jars and uncap them.  It’s all about efficiency you know.

Once it’s ready, those who were lining up the jars get to fill them.

And this is the final product.  Isn’t it beautiful?

Imagine having nice homemade tomato sauce with your pasta in the dead of winter. You can taste the freshness of the summer in your meal.  Of course, the memories of having a good time, being with family, bonding.  That’s what this is really all about.

It’s all in a day’s work.  And having a good time.

They’re Everywhere!!!!

by Manuela, posted in Being Present, Living, Travel

‘Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places, if you look at it right.” – The Grateful Dead

Now isn’t that the truth!!

I know I keep going on and on about my trip to Europe, but kind readers, bare with me.  I find that there is just so much to share with you!!

I already told you about my trip to the medieval abbey Le Mont Saint Michel in my previous post “A Princes, An Order and An Abbey” but I didn’t tell you about what I saw there.

Lightbulbs!  An entire room of lightbulbs.  You should have heard me yell with glee!

And then the next day, while walking around in the city of Rennes, I look into the window of a store, and I see this!!

I just had to go into the store.  You should have seen all the lightbulbs hanging around.

I was in heaven…and I was cold.  This is the store I got my cozy blue scarf that I’m wearing in my post “Mmm….”)

And these ones where in a dance store I went to check out for my daughter.

What is my obsession with lightbulbs?  Let me explain it to you.  What is the purpose of a lightbulb? The answer is easy: it’s to emanate light.  And why do we have light? A number of different reasons: to light an area, lead the way, make the dark less scary.  Mainly, to allow us to see.

So to me, lightbulbs are a reminder to always try to look at the bright side of life.  Yes, I have that song now stuck in my head too….good ol’ Monty Python. Wether it be being in significant debt, having weeds growing in your driveway, losing your job, fighting with your loved one, going through a divorce etc, there is always a bright side to it.

So now, every time I see a lightbulb, and they’re EVERYWHERE I’ve noticed, I am reminded to do an internal check and see where I’m at.

Bet you that you’ll notice them everywhere too now! hehehe….if you come across any interesting ones, do share.  I’ll post them on this blog to share with everyone.

Hope you’re having a great weekend!

Mmmm……

by Manuela, posted in Living, Uncategorized

“It ain’t burnt, Rosemary, it’s blackened.”  ―    Bunny Mathews

I have been thinking about my relationship with food lately.  It’s a love/hate relationship.  I love to bake, I hate to cook, and I love to eat.  I have been told that I know how to cook, and I have also been told that I have no idea what I’m doing in the kitchen.  I’m often made fun of with my cooking.

I know that can bake.  I can make a serious Turtle pecan Cheesecake, and my other desserts can knock your socks off.  I can read a baking  recipe and tell you if it will turn out to be good or not, by looking at the ingredients and how it’s prepared.  And now I have a cute apron to wear when I bake!

Cooking is a different story.  Despite what some people say, I think I can cook – though some people may argue against my point. Looking back, I can see that when I first got married, I had a rocky road ahead of me.  Prior to being married, I didn’t cook a day in my life, and then I was expected to cook gourmet meals – every day.  And I was being constantly compared to my mother and mother-in-law.  Not fair.  Of course I would hate to cook.  Who wouldn’t? And recently I realized just how much I dislike it. And it’s a strong dislike. I think I may do just about anything possible to not cook. There have been times when I’ve jokingly asked my daughter if she would like to make dinner, and her response would be “Mommy, I’m too little to cook.” Of course, she’s right, and there was a bit of truth to the question, but one can hope, no?

If I could, I would live off of Nutella sandwiches all day long – for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The fact that I have a dependant, and I care deeply for her nutritional needs prevents me from doing so.  So I have no choice but to suck it up and move on.

But like I said, recently it hit me in the face how much I don’t like it, and being spoiled and served this yummy food all the time while on vacation doesn’t help the matter.  I’d like to share some of the photos of the DELISH food I had recently:

I had never had French Onion Soup until my trip to Paris.  The day I arrived, I had this one, and all the ones I had afterwards (one each day) none could come close to being this yummy.  Restaurant La Ville De Abbesses is the place to go.

The same restaurant also served Creme Brule’ in the most interesting way, and this too was to die for.

One thing I found interesting in both Italy and France was the lack of veggies.  I love my veggies. Yes, I’m strange, but I can’t help it.  I found out later on that the veggies weren’t growing very well due to the very hot temperatures, but the fruit did well. Look at the gorgeous apricots!

Gelato. Creme glacee.  Need I say more?  Isn’t your mouth-watering yet?

I need a crepe pan. It’s not real cooking, more a dessert. I went to a crepe restaurant in Rennes – La Creperie Saint Georges.  All the menu items contained George.  I had the George Clooney, and he was delicious.  It was a Rapini crepe with goats cheese and tomato, and cucumber sorbet.  YUM!

Italy means pasta.  Nothing beats pasta baked in the oven.  My Mom’s cousin made this and it was lick your lips yummy.

In Rennes, the little Bed and Breakfast I stayed in was wonderful. Symphonie Des Sense was luxurious, and totally spoiled me. How could I possibly go back to making my own breakfast when I was brought this to my room at my arranged wake up time?

So back to making Nutella sandwiches I go.  At least when I’m home alone. If only I could bring this back with me.  Too bad there wasn’t enough room in my luggage.  It would have made my life so much easier.

I Have A Present For You…

by Manuela, posted in Emotions, Love, Relationships

…but I need to borrow your arms for the wrapping paper. ~ Author Unknown

To redeem your gift, please do the following:

  1. Take your right hand and place it onto your left shoulder.
  2. Take your left hand and place it onto your right shoulder.
  3. Squeeze as hard as you can.

I hope you enjoyed your hug.

I’m a hugger.  I love receiving hugs, and I especially love giving hugs.  If I knew I wouldn’t be arrested, I’d give hugs to complete strangers.  I am the type of person who pronounces to someone that I’m a hugger, go to that person and wrap my arms around them, often time neglecting to ask them if the feeling was mutual.  Even if they tell me that they don’t want a hug, I tend to ignore them and give them one anyway.  As a good friend said to me once, “a hug allows to people’s hearts to greet each other.”  And she’s right.  Because if you’re hugging facing each other, your hearts align perfectly, and if you’re hugging by one person standing behind another, they still align perfectly.

There something quite powerful about a hug that can’t be replicated elsewhere.  As humans, we have a basic need for touch and safety.  That’s why hospitals now have a new born baby placed on it’s mother’s chest within moments of being born.  What does the mother instinctively do? She hugs the baby, to make sure it feels loved and safe.  A hug allows for your basic needs to be met.  At that very moment, when you’re in an embrace, you’re safe in that person’s arms, you’re feeling loved and the world stands still for a while.  A hug also breaks down the barriers in a way that words can’t do.  It’s a time for bonding and comfort.

I remember one of my earliest memories of being hugged.  It was with my Dad and I was sitting on my little duckmobile.  He had his arms around me.  I have a picture of that moment, and still can remember being hugged by him.  I felt safe and loved.

A hug is a great way to salute a new person we meet.  It shows that you really care that they are with you at that moment, and that they are welcome.  It’s telling them that they are important.

Without hugs, we struggle.  We feel alone, isolated.  We feel that we don’t belong.  We try to convince ourselves that we don’t need a hug, we can do without.  But really think about it, is that true?  Yesterday I went to watch Hope Springs starring Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones.  It’s a great movie about a devoted couple who have been married for over 30 years, but have lost the connection in their marriage.  The movie is about their visit to a couples therapist, and their attempts to reignite the spark in their marriage.

This movie brought back painful memories from the past for me.  I saw many similarities from my past marriage in that movie.  Even though it was difficult at times to watch, I still think it was a great movie, and I suggest that everyone see it.  Everyone can benefit from it. What really stung the most was the main character’s longing to be hugged.  She so desperately wanted a hug.  The marriage had gotten so bad that although they both longed for touch, it was at the point that their pride got in the way and prevented them from doing a basic act. One of the basic exercises the therapist had them do was to hug each other, and they struggled with it.  They had become strangers.

Why do we pride get in our way? Are we willing to let the relationship deteriorate.  Rather than reaching out to the person that you love, we retreate inward.  People who love you, that’s what they should do, love you when you’re not so lovable, and hug you.  If you’re angry at someone, hug that person.  It’s even more of a reason to do it.  It will be hard to do, because you’re angry.  But do it anyway.  And when you hug them, really mean it, don’t hug them with no feeling. Use your strength.  A fake hug can easily be felt and will only make matters worse.  It shows the other person that even though you are angry, you still love them.  And that makes them feel important, loved and safe.  We do that easily with children, so why can’t we do this with adults?

Think back to your last hug.  I remember mine.  I was asked if I wanted a hug, and I immediately said yes.  I felt arms come around me and give me a gigantic hug.  The warm simple pleasure of human contact felt wonderful, and for the first time in a long time, I actually felt good.  I felt safe and that everything would be ok.

Now I need to ask you a favour, play that hug I gave forward.  Show someone else how much you care for them.  Give them a hug.

Blorft And Other Things

by Manuela, posted in Emotions, Living

“I was a little excited but mostly blorft. “Blorft” is an adjective I just made up that means ‘Completely overwhelmed but proceeding as if everything is fine and reacting to the stress with the torpor of a possum.’ I have been blorft every day for [a long time].” ― Tina Fey, Bossypants

Blorft. What a great word.  And it toally describes what I have been doing for the past few years.  One thing after another would happen, and I’d like “ok, this happened” and I would just plough through it. Just one more thing to look after.

But I find you can only do that so much before your body totally caves in.  And when you reach that point, nothing anybody says can help.  Not “things will get better soon”, or “it’s not that bad”, and my favourite is “it will all work out in the end.” I get it, I know why people say these things.  It’s to give you that hope to keep pushing forward, but what happens when you don’t see any end in sight, or there is no way out?  And what about when you think you’ve hit rock bottom because things can’t possibly get worse, and you believe that you’re on your way up, because things do seem to be getting better, and then all of a sudden you’ve been pushed and you’re plumetting down much further than you have ever been before?  What do you do?

After some thought, I figured it out out a few things that I do.  Most of the time I want to sweep away half of the things I’m expected to do by sleeping as much and as long as I can.  Any moment I can.  But this isn’t possible most times.  I do have a little girl to care for.

Other times, I want to have a very good cry.  Crying to the point where it’s impossible to breathe, where I can’t believe that the sounds I hear are actually coming from me.  And just as much as I want a good cry, I also want a good laugh.   Laughing to the point where my belly aches.

Sometimes I feed my emotional needs by feeding my stomach.  I don’t make the healthiest choices in this state.  Everything I eat usually contains some form of chocolate in it.  And then I get more stressed out because I get wider and I break out in pimples.  Definitely not a good way to cope.

Often times I just want to be left alone in my thoughts.  I go quiet.  I can be in a room full of people, listening to conversation and not contribute at all.  I am just there.

But most of all, what I do is try to slow down my mind.  And how do I do this?

I organize things around the house.

I’m not crazy.  And I’m definitely not a clean freak.  Once I had asked someone to clean after themselves more carefully and they couldn’t understand my strong reaction to what they did.  They couldn’t understand why such as small thing would get to me that much.  They couldn’t understand why I felt that the house was such a mess, when they thought it wasn’t.  It’s about reducing stress and clutter.  It’s about efficiency.  If I’m feeling overwhelmed and I look around the house and see papers and things everywhere, it stresses me out further.  And when someone does something, when they aren’t careful, it stresses me further.  Organizing and cleaning is a way of stepping back, going back to basics.  It doesn’t solve my problems, of course not. It allows me the time and space to work through my problems.  It slows me down.

It’s like the exercise done for some women recovering from abuse or other stressful situations, where she may feel like she is not in charge of anything, especially her own world.  This exercise involves her to come face to face with a horse with trepidation.  The horse senses her fear and becomes tense.  The woman is handed a brush and sent to go and fuss over the horse.  She is told to stand very close to the horse that way she is out of kicking range, but is warned she also has to make sure she doesn’t get stomped on.  Above all, she is told to watch for the signs of fear in herself, as the horse is sensitive to it and react to it.  They are both allowed to back away and regroup and try again until they are comfortable with each other.  Once comfortable, calm prevails.  The exercise is all about teaching the woman to center herself.  To get her to feel that she can take charge of something, has some means of control in her life.

And this is what I do with my cleaning sprees.  It’s about centering myself.  The simple routine allows for that.  In other words “wax on, wax off.”

And what is another big bonus in all of this?  A tidy house 🙂

My Many Coloured Moments

by Manuela, posted in Being Present, Emotions, Living, Understanding

“It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard…is what makes it great!”  -Tom Hanks, A League of Their Own

This past weekend I’ve had a mixture of brown, black, green and pink moments, making for mixed up days.  If you have no idea what I’m talking about, refer to Dr. Seuss’ “My Many Colored Days“. Brown is for when you’re feeling low, black is for when you’re mad, green is cool and collected, and pink is for being happy!

On Saturday I went to Caribana.  It’s a festival held here in Toronto and I got to experience some of the Caribbean culture, music and food.  I was in awe of the amount of people, the music and beautiful costumes all around.  I saw a bit of the parade, and I had the most yummy Jerk Chicken ever! Defintely pink moments.

Then as the day progressed I found that my energy levels were depleting rapidly.  My legs grew heavy, my mind was stuffy and I needed to sit down every so often.  It was hot and humid that day, so I concluded that my body just couldn’t handle it.  I went home and was in bed very early that evening. A grey momment (tired).

The next day, yesterday, I had a hard time getting out of bed.  I was tired, very tired.  I puttered around the house, doing some chores but I found that I would get easily tired. I became annoyed.  I decided to do some banking as it wasn’t taxing on the body. I took a look at my account and became really depressed, wondering how much longer I could go on like this, with this costly divorce, waiting for the house to sell, daily expenses and being unemployed.  I saw no end in sight and I freaked.  I was a crying mess. Definitely brown and black moments.

After some time, when I had no more tears left to cry, I decided to go for a walk.  I wandered to a park nearby and walked along the trails.  It was beautiful, regenerating, and calming.  There was a slight breeze, the ponds were gorgeous and seeing the people having bbq’s, sitting on the benches, and the lovers laying on blankets under the trees was uplifting. So much of a pink moment. Being out in the outdoors always had an revitalizing effect on me.

But I found it difficult to walk after a while.  I was out of breath – again! What was going on?

Thinking to a few weeks back, while in Italy in the Amalfi Coast, to get to our apartment meant to climb 47 stairs.  And during the day we were always walking.  We never stopped.  In Paris, it was 98 stairs to the apartment.  Heck, in one days I climbed the 98 stairs to the apartment twice, climbed to the second level of the Eiffel tower, the Arch de Triomphe, Sacre Coeur and the gazillion subway stairs for a total of 1,400 stairs in one day, let alone all the walking along the way.  I didn’t have any trouble then. So why on earth am I having trouble walking a park trail?

It because I’m now out of shape.

I find it interesting that after a couple of weeks of decreased activity my body is having trouble functioning the way I want it to, the way it used to.  After my little getaway to Paris, when I returned to Italy to visit family, I didn’t walk a lot, and there weren’t many stairs to climb.  When I returned back to Toronto, my activity levels decreased further.  With this I find that my coping levels have been hit hard, that emotionally I’m all over the place.  My stamina for anything has plummeted.  This means only one thing.  I have to exercise.  I need more red (enegergetic), blue (lively), orange (fun) and pink (happy) moments in my life.

I don’t mind exercising.  I quite enjoy it.  I used to run at least four or five 10k races a year.  I’m not a fast runner, and that’s ok.  I completed every race I began and for me, that’s what matters most.  I earned every medal I set out for.  And above all else, it’s what has got me through some very tough times.

But this year I haven’t done much exercise, let alone any running.  Haven’t done much of anything.  It’s taken some time to get used to this new lifestyle of being a single Mom.  There isn’t as much free time as there used to be, even with being unemployed as there are many things that need to be taken care of.  Earlier this year I decided to sign up for a 5k run, and couldn’t get any training in.  While running the race I felt as if my lungs were being ripped out of my chest.

I need to do something about this, fast.

So my cousin and Godfather have decided to run the Niagara Falls 10k race in October, and want me to join them this year.  This was an annual race for us, up until two years ago when my life changed dramatically.  I think I will go for it.  I’ll train as best as I can.  It will be tough to get out there and train for the long distance runs.  I’ll have to get my little one to join me on her bike.

It’s great to have goals set like that, but my problem is in the present time, not the future.  I have been thinking about strapping on my runners all day, but can’t get myself to do it.  Not sure what is stopping me.  I’m also worried that I’ll start this endeavor, and eventually will let it die off.

Enough of this analysing, now off I go to do something – to get myself moving.  I want to get feel better.  I’d love to hear what your coping strategies are, so please do share.

She Wore An….

by Manuela, posted in Being Present, Living, Travel

“Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini, So in the locker, she wanted to stay.” ~ Brian Hyland

I think I wore my first bikini probably when I was four years old.  I imagine that I had a big belly at that time, which most four year olds do, and I looked absolutely dashing!  Sadly, that was probably the last time I wore one too.

I remember one time when I was about seven years old, and my friend’s aunt who was a seamstress made her a cute white bikini with red and orange stripes.  I was jealous of her.  The bikini was beautiful, she looked really good in it and I wanted one just like it.  Her aunt then made one for too, and I looked awful in it.  I was so embarassed that I swore to stick to one pieces from then on. And I did.

I’m pretty sure that I’m not alone in this, but walking around in your intimates at the beach or pool (because really, what’s the difference between a bikini and undearwear besides material?) is nerve wrecking.  It’s the worst thing in the world, right up there with public speaking for some.  I hate it. Every time I walk out onto the beach in one (and pool too) I feel as if everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at me – and not for a good reason either.

So you can probably imagine the shock I experienced when I was stared up and down when going to the beaches in Amalfi and Pescara in Italy. The strange thing is –  I wasn’t stared at because of how my body looks but because I was wearing a one piece bathing suit!  No one wears a one piece bathing suit.  And I mean no one.  Everyone wears a bikini.  Even the grannies who are ninety wear bikinis, revealing all their loose parts.  The pregnant women, the obese women, the fruit shaped women (apple and pear) wear them as well.  Everyone!  And nobody cared about what other people thought.  And they rocked, they wore them with confidence!

I also noticed that the figures we mostly see in magazines and tv were practically non-existant there.  I managed to push aside the fact that I was wearing a one piece and for once in my life, I was able to enjoy walking around in my swimsuit.  I didn’t feel the need to use a cover up.  I went from the sea to the bar to the beach chair and even making a sand castle.  I finally felt free to enjoy being in my own skin!  I was totally comfortable – oh boy!

And then the unthinkable happened.  I decided to buy two bikinis!!  Not one, but two.  And I said I bought them, I didn’t say I wore them.  Actually, I didn’t wear them because I bought them on my last day at the beach, and also because I thought that I would look rather silly in it as I am tanned on my upper and lowere body and it would mean that my midrift would be snow white.  That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

So yesterday my daughter and I decided to go to the outdoor community pool. I reached for my one piece bathing suit and she immediately stopped me.  She wanted me to wear my “cute” bikini with the polka dots on the inside.  Boy was it ever hard to put that on. Not because it didn’t fit, but because the courage I had experienced in Italy drained out of me the minute I stepped onto that plane to come back home.  I knew that at that point if I didn’t put it on, I never would.  So I sucked it up and I put it on.

At the pool, when I walked out of the change room in my bikini I felt that everyone was staring at me.  I talked myself out of running for the change room, and encouraged myself to believe that I don’t care what people think.  I wasn’t there to impress anyone.  I was there to enjoy myself.  And I did enjoy myself.  I didn’t know that being in a bikini is actually liberating.  The water feels different against the skin, against your bare belly, than when you’re in a one piece.

Then nice things began happening.  My daughter said to me that I look cute.  A woman complimented me on my bikini and I noticed a few men staring at me.  This helped me feel more comfortable in it because I don’t have a model’s figure.  I know I’m soft in a few areas.  I looked around and found that those “perfect” figures were non-existant here too.  Was all the fear I felt about wearing a bikini driven by my mind and what I thought I needed to look like in order to wear one?

I’m so thankful for those ladies on the beach in Italy.  Some may think it’s gross to see some of them in bikinis.  I think it’s beautiful.  They prove that no matter what, you have a right to be free.  Society shouldn’t stop you from enjoying life.  No one should dictate what you should or should not wear.  If it wasn’t for them, it wouldn’t have even crossed my mind to wear a two piece.  So girls, pull out you bikini and be free!!  Love what your Mama gave you!