Race Day Bling

“In running, it doesn’t matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say ‘I have finished.’ There is a lot of satisfaction in that.”

-Fred Lebow, New York City Marathon co-founder

A friend recently reminded me to take the time to celebrate  achievements. It was a great reminder not to treat our goals or achievements as  something we check off a list to make room for the next “thing”. If it had not  been for this conversation, I probably would have been guilty of that today.

For the last six months, I’ve been training for a half marathon. My running partners have been my husband and another friend of ours who was also training for the same event. Based on our schedules, my weekday runs  were generally with my friend and my long runs were with my husband. We have  all had our turns at being there for each other and holding each other accountable.

Today was the day that all the training and dedication came together and got us not only to the start line – but the Finish line as well. I had hoped to beat my best half-marathon time (PR) but I didn’t pull it off. I ran according to my Garmin and didn’t realize until after the race how much extra (a tenth of a mile) I spent running around people or trying to find a good spot to position myself in.

The hills cost me time towards the end of the race when I was  starting to get tired. I picked up my speed towards the end, but it was 12  seconds shy of what I needed to PR. My Garmin pace was based on the distance and speed run, but my half-marathon time was based on the chip time when I crossed the finish line. In a nut shell, I should have reached a little deeper to make sure there was no margin for error in my calculations.

I could beat myself up over it, but I don’t deserve it, and I won’t. I trained hard, I ran hard, I finished – and I had fun.  At forty-five, my health is better than it’s ever been. Thanks to my friend Tony, I remembered to celebrate all of that.

After the race, my husband and I met our friend and her husband and daughter for lunch and to celebrate friendship, good health, and an awesome achievement for all of us. Whether in person or in spirit, a big thank you to our friends and family for cheering us along!

How have you celebrated recently?

To touch the soul of another human being is to walk on holy ground. – Stephen Covey

The full BlogWorld experience is more than just attending sessions. It’s about connecting with others.  Some we’ll never see again, some will become friends, and some will touch us for a lifetime. I’d love to introduce you to some of the people I met. They have their own audience and voice, yet until BlogWorld we hadn’t crossed paths – they were hidden gems to me.

In no particular order, please meet:

Mona: the woman behind my favorite twitter name at #BWELA – @cookthisgetlaid  and the blog of the same name.  After five minutes with Mona you feel as though you’ve known her forever. I admired her ability to walk up to a full table and gracefully introduce herself to every new face. It’s one of those skills I’d love to master. Stop by her blog, she has great recipes!

My favorite new laugh of the day: Tastefully Offensive, an addictive humor site by Christian Baker. Christian was one of the first people I met at BlogWorld.  I don’t remember which one of us broke the ice first as we were waiting for the shuttle to the convention center but I loved listening to his journey and then getting hooked on his site. He is very dedicated to his craft, we gravitated to a lot of the same sessions and every time I saw him, he was hard at work. Go get a laugh today!

The best example of doing something you love and touching the lives of others: The Napkin Dad, Marty Coleman.  On the first day of #BWELA, he joined our table for breakfast. We learned that he would be speaking later in the week and we were able to get a sneak peek at his story. Stop by his blog and read Beginnings.

His presentation on what can stop our creativity intertwined with the story was touching on so many levels. His authenticity shines through and he inspired me to keep moving forward in my endeavors, one step at a time.

A woman after my own heart, Anne-Sophie of www.fightinganorexia.com We met before one of the sessions so we didn’t have the opportunity to speak for long but we did have a wonderful conversation about the purpose behind our blogs. In that short time, we were really able to connect because we were both on a mission to help others by sharing our own journey.

Her blog is about her battle in overcoming anorexia and I blog about my journey which includes my families’ hoarding and alcoholism. Even though it’s discussed more in mainstream media than it has been, the topics we blog about are still somehow considered taboo by many. We both know that there are others out there who are going through  what we have and we both had the exact sentiment – if we can help just one person with what we share, we will feel as though we’ve made a difference. It was nice to connect with someone that understands everything that comes with blogging about things that can be so personal in order to help others.

In Chris Brogan’s words “be bold, say hi, connect – you’ll find people that love you.”

What hidden gems have you found lately??

Peter Shankman & SimplyD

Peter Shankman is a constant source of inspiration in my life. I had the pleasure of meeting him earlier this year when he was in town for a symposium. It hadn’t been announced when I registered for BlogWorld, but he was the keynote speaker on opening day – it was the best added bonus I could have received. As expected, he rocked the house and his name was always mentioned if we were discussing who our favorite speakers were. Another attendee, Tom Treanor gives a great recap.

After his keynote, he was gracious enough to stick around and answer questions or take pictures with us. I stopped by to say hello and do the picture thing. At the time, I was at the end of the line so there was no behind me to ask to take the picture. I spotted a woman off to the side and asked if she would mind taking it – she agreed and I handed her my Droid-X  in camera mode and showed her the button to push. I walked over, stood by Peter and waited…and watched… and waited some more as she was figuring it out. I realized the camera mode was going to shut off at any second – which it did. I ran over to turn it back on, set it up again and once more stood by Peter. And waited for several agonizingly long seconds… More discomfort. Same problem, more explanation, and then relief as the picture snapped. I thanked Peter and walked away. The woman and I looked at the camera and my heart sank – no picture. I was ready to leave, “its okay” I told her, and I meant it.

I’m tenacious, but on this occasion, she won the war on tenacity. She wanted to learn how to take the picture on the Droid and was adamant that we were going to get me that picture with Peter. My level of discomfort was in the red zone – blown head gasket level. Since there was now a line, I managed to convince her to let those people go through before we tried again. Thankfully Peter knew her, or at least knew her first name, so he was very patient even though he suggested at one point that someone else take the picture. Discomfort overload…

Finally – Click. Success, a picture with Peter! I walked over to the woman that helped me; she wanted to make sure we got the picture that time. Then, I saw the picture – discomfort followed by disappointment. When I first saw the picture this was the conversation in my head:

“OMG, I look like a freakin dork. How is it that I barely weigh one hundred and ten freakin pounds and I still have this huge-ass Charlie Brown face? I look like something Charles Schulz created. Crap.” Once I looked at the reality of the situation, the conversation in my head went like this: “First of all, get over yourself, no one is going to look at you, Peter is in the picture! Besides, who cares what they think. There are so many people who would love the opportunity to be at BlogWorld and meet Peter and all you can do is complain? Shut up and enjoy the moment.”

A perfect stranger was willing to stay with me and help me get a picture with the person I have adopted as my virtual mentor (unbeknownst to him). They were both patient and gracious enough to make it happen. I thought back to two lessons I’ve learned from Peter – one was in a post he wrote about reality vs. perceived reality. “Perhaps I need to remember that I’m the only one who sees my perceived reality, and not get so worked up about it.” The other was one of the many lessons in his keynote “Nothing good ever comes from staying in your comfort zone”. I’ve lived more of my life out of my comfort zone than in, and he’s right, it’s something I preach and practice – nothing good comes from being comfortable or complacent. I have a life I love – and my picture with Peter. Neither of them came easy, but the discomfort was worth it a million times over. Charlie Brown head and all.

Last night I drove home both energized and tired after an amazing three days at BlogWorld 2011 #BWELA. It was the first time I’d attended and I loved every minute. It’s like ComicCon for a different breed of nerds and geeks – in other words, I felt very much at home there. And yes, I really have attended ComicCon…

Rather than trying to cram all of the experiences and lessons learned into one post, I’m going to break it up into different segments. Since I’ve often talked about “getting out of your comfort zone” Let’s start there. My “about page” says that I’m an “introverted extrovert” and BlogWorld is the perfect example to illustrate what I mean by that. I love people, I love hearing their stories and making new friends. I am NOT comfortable walking up to complete strangers and introducing myself. My comfort zone isn’t even in sight in this situation. Once we get past the introduction though, everyone feels like an old friend.

A couple of days before I left for BlogWorld I signed on to Google+ to see who was posting about it. I found something by Chris Brogan, someone I admire greatly for their authenticity, genuine kindness and sound advice. He posed a very simple question – “Are you going to BlogWorld LA? What are your goals?” I immediately started typing my reply and as I was finishing I suddenly got this overwhelming feeling of dread – Why? Those little whispering voices I thought I had assassinated long ago started chattering – “he has no clue who you are, why are you answering?” I try to ignore the thought. “That’s a lame answer”, they taunted. “Screw you” I thought as I started to hit the enter key – then stopped – then tried again. Finally, my stronger sense of self kicked in and I replied. A bit later I received a notification that he replied back! Take that little voices!

His reply truly became my mantra for the conference “be bold. Say hi. Connect. You’ll find people who love you. : )”  I can’t tell you how many times I repeated this in my head when I was feeling awkward about meeting someone or introducing myself. It did make a difference in getting past being uncomfortable and just connecting. The best part was that as I was on my way to one of the sessions, I spotted Chris who seemed to be hurrying off to something else. I put his advice into action and stopped him long enough to thank him for his reply and let him know that it had become my mantra for the conference. I held on to this mindset throughout the conference and met so many amazing people – some of whom I will be introducing to you in the following days.

Lessons Learned: Advice is useless unless you put it into practice. Ignore the negative mind chatter, it doesn’t serve you. You never know how much your words will touch someone else.

What’s your favorite tip for moving forward when you’re feeling uncomfortable?

Learning is the beginning of wealth. Learning is the beginning of health. Learning is the beginning of spirituality. Searching and learning is where the miracle process all begins.
Jim Rohn

It’s the night before BlogWorld aka #BWELA, the largest blogging conference in the world. I’m sitting in my room reflecting on why I’m here, why I blog and what it is I’m working towards.

In a nutshell, it’s to help others by sharing my own journey. I’ve had life experiences that at times felt unbearably dark and surreal. I often felt completely alone, as if no one else in the world could possibly understand what I was experiencing. My life was turned upside down on more than one occasion but I managed to get back up each time. It wasn’t always pretty, but in the end, baby step by baby step, I’ve built a life I love.

I’m no one extraordinary; I’m just a woman who began the journey as a determined and often scared and confused little girl. I’d like to give hope to anyone that feels alone and afraid. I’d like to reach out and let them know that by taking baby steps in the right direction, that they really can reach their destination. There may be setbacks along the way, but you have to keep moving forward. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Keep learning. Keep growing. Find people who are successful in doing what you want to do. Most people will be happy to help you.

The speakers and attendees who will be at Blogworld are people I greatly admire, respect, and learn from. I want to learn how to better help others by continually developing my own voice. I’m excited about the days ahead, and yes, a little school-girl nervous about meeting a few of the folks I usually admire from afar.

What is it that you want to do? What are you working towards? What are you doing to get there?

My dream even way back then....

Do you have what it takes to make your dreams a reality? Are you doing everything you possibly can, every single day to get closer to your goal? Do you want it so bad that it consumes you?

This is a question I pose to myself on a regular basis – something we all should be asking. My answer is easily yes to the first and last question. Whether I’m doing something every single day makes me stop and look at how I spend my time, and analyze whether I’ve done at least one small thing that will help me achieve my goal.

I’ve found that the vast majority of the time the answer to that question is yes as well, but it could definitely be improved. Vast majority isn’t good enough though. We can’t slack off or make excuses and we can’t be afraid.

I’ll admit a guilty pleasure is watching The X Factor. Sure there’s editing involved, but I don’t ever want to forget what it looks and feels like to want something with every fiber of your being. Seeing people take action, and put themselves “out there” to make things happen is something I find inspirational. That burning desire is what gave me the courage to move from Michigan to California a few decades ago. I knew it was what I had to do to build a better life. It was a burning desire and I didn’t let it go.

Are you doing what it takes to make your dreams a reality? What’s working and what’s holding you back? I’d love to hear…

Sadly, today we say goodbye to an icon – Steve Jobs.  Whether you’re a Mac or PC person, it’s hard to argue what an amazing visionary Steve was. His passion was apparent in all he did and his charisma was a reflection of that.

As a tribute to him, I’m sharing this video of his commencement speech at Stanford. Please make the time to watch it; it’s a very worthy reminder of how to live your life fully. His words and views of death struck a chord with with me, as it has been the deaths of my loved ones that have had the greatest impact on how I choose to live.

Two quotes that I loved:

“Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

What are you doing to let your inner voice shine?

Uncle Joe

“Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.”
Mitch Albom, For One More Day

This is a continuation of the last post.

A week later, my son and I would be on a plane headed for Michigan. He was eleven months old and would soon be meeting my dad’s side of the family for the first time.

I called home as soon as I landed in Michigan and made plans to meet my Uncle Joe for lunch. Since he didn’t feel comfortable with me staying at my own home, I stayed with another one of my aunts and uncles.

The minute I walked outside of Detroit Metro, a very muggy August evening was there to greet me. The weather seemed to be getting hotter as the night went on – the complete opposite of what happens in San Diego. My mind was racing, and I couldn’t fall asleep because I was thinking about seeing my family the next day. In particular, I was thinking about all the things I wanted to say to my Uncle Joe. We were always at odds with each other when I was growing up. We knew how to push each others buttons and did it often.

After a lot of tossing and turning, I took my pillow and blanket and moved to the front room where it was a little cooler. I woke up at four-thirty in the morning because the room actually felt chilly. I remember sitting up half asleep and watching the curtains blow in the breeze. It gave me a really weird feeling because it was still extremely hot and humid except for the odd breeze. Laughing at myself for almost feeling afraid to stay in the room, I chalked it up to nerves and jet lag and moved back to the bedroom.

That morning, my aunt came into my room around seven in the morning. I was awake, but not up yet. My head was in a fog as I was hearing her say “Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your Aunt Sarah called and I’m afraid I have some bad news.” She went on to tell me that my Uncle Joe died in his sleep during the night.

It doesn’t matter how many times I say it, type it or write it, it’s still surreal. I was stunned beyond words. My heart aches now as much as it did then. It just couldn’t be. I couldn’t possibly have gotten that close to seeing him only to have him die a few hours before we were to meet. I would never get to see him again, not alive. In the back of my mind, I’ve always wondered if the odd little chill in the air was his way of saying goodbye. Whether it was or wasn’t, the thought offered a sliver of peace on the days that I really needed it..

It was such a horrible feeling that even now, years later, I just can’t put it into words. I hadn’t been able to tell him everything I wanted to, that’s what this whole trip was about for me. I hadn’t had the chance to apologize for the hard times, I hadn’t had the chance to really tell him thank you, or how much I loved him, and he hadn’t had the chance to see my son. I was devastated and felt utterly and completely blind-sided.

Throughout his funeral, I sobbed and ached as if my heart was being ripped out of my body. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much in my entire life. I don’t think anything has hurt that badly, in that way. I remember my cousin Debbie coming over to me in the middle of the service and hugging me and I just couldn’t stop crying. Deep, uncontrollable sobbing that felt as if it would never end. His is still the hardest death for me because I didn’t have the closure I needed, and at the time it felt as if life had just played the cruelest joke in the world on me. I was angry at him for dying on me while I was so close. I remember that he wanted to wait until the next day so he could “clean up”. The hurt of being so close was unbearable. I was just a few hours too late.

I remember seeing my cousins- his sons, and looking at them and thinking that they were carbon copies of him at different stages of his life. I remember thinking how strange it was to have just lost him, yet feeling like I was looking at a younger version of him. I was so grief struck, and shocked that I really don’t remember very much else of that trip.

My uncle’s death taught me one of the most painful lessons I’ve ever learned. It was with his death that I experienced the pain of words left unspoken. Even though my uncle and I loved each other, and we both knew it, I never got to tell him all the things that I wanted to. I denied myself the inner peace I so desperately needed when he died.

Eventually, his death taught me how to forgive myself, and how to forgive others. His death taught me the importance of letting go of our pain. I learned how important it is to tell the people in our lives how important they are to us, how much we love and respect them, to say “thank you” and “I love you” while they are still here. It taught me that we never know when we might be seeing someone for the last time, and how important each and every encounter really is.

What has death taught you about living?

“It is only through labor and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage, that we move on to better things”

Theodore Roosevelt

Before the hoarding

In a very surreal moment, I felt myself hugging my Uncle Joe goodbye. It was the first time I had seen him cry since my grandmothers’ funeral. My pain and emotional turmoil was unbearable. I knew I had to leave in order to have some semblance of normalcy in my life. It hurt deeply to leave the family that loved and raised me even though it felt like a matter of survival. I knew the love was there and I knew they did their best for me. What I didn’t know is that some day there would be a mainstream name for what I was experiencing – hoarding.

When I left, my aunt was angry and hurt. I know she felt that I was abandoning her and the rest of my family. For that generation, a young female leaving home to live alone wasn’t often viewed as a good thing. When it was cross-country to California, it was even worse.

It took years to repair the damage my move created and for my family to come to terms with the fact that my decision was a positive one. We called each other on a regular basis and finally made peace.

In July of 1988, I made one of my weekly calls home. I spoke to my aunt first and after we caught up, I spoke to my uncle. I was taken aback by his voice. It’s hard to explain, but I knew immediately that something was wrong. His voice sounded weak and almost frail, as if he had aged years in just a week’s time. It scared me enough to book a flight home. As sad as it is to say, it would be the first time I’d be home since the day I left.

I didn’t tell my aunt or uncle why I chose to come home at that time. I just listened to my inner voice and did what I felt needed to be done. I didn’t get much resistance about visiting other than where I would stay. It never occurred to me that my uncle wouldn’t want me to stay in my own home when I returned. He chalked it up to the neighborhood not being safe anymore. I suspected the hoarding, but never in my wildest dreams or nightmares did I anticipate what would happen on that visit.

To be continued…

In the meantime, what was your experience with going back home for the first time?

Before the Hoarding

“In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.” -Virginia Woolf

Not drug-induced flashbacks, the kind where a certain smell or place sends you reeling back in time.

I found myself walking into our local ER a few days ago. The doctors thought it was appendicitis; however it turned out to be a case of inflamed kidneys.

As the automatic hospital doors slid open, I flashed back almost forty years. Uncle Joe was holding my hand as we walked down a hospital corridor during a cold Michigan evening. Back then, it was asthma that would make me a frequent guest in St. Joe’s Pediatric ward.  The routine was usually the same, two failed Epinephrine shots and a breathing treatment. When the doctors didn’t see improvement, a wristband, oxygen tent and semi-private room would soon be in my future.

After my grandmother died, and the hoarding started at home, I welcomed the hospital stays. I felt horrible for wanting to stay there, but I came to love the sterile white environment. I found it very peaceful, even with the constant sounds of equipment and activity at all hours of the night. I loved that everything was neatly organized and accessible. I loved the tightly folded bed corners, and most of all I loved the luxury of a bed.

Coming home was difficult.

I was always happy to be back with my family yet my chest squeezed each time I walked through our front door for the first time after a hospital stay. My stays were at least a week long – just long enough to get used to a different environment. My Aunt and Uncle would visit each day, usually with homework and a new supply of reading material. We talked, played games and walked the halls, my I.V. a constant at my side.

The drive home after a stay was usually time for mental preparation. As I became older, the prep time increased. When my hand turned the doorknob it felt like the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe – I walked through to a new reality.

It was nice when I came home after a fresh snowfall. The blanket covered the piles of “stuff” on our front porch and gave me a few more seconds of reprieve. Inside, the stacks of newspapers that formed a maze through our front room would still be there. The sofa with room for one had not changed. The dining room table buried under things to be used “later” was still there – somewhere. My secret life was still there, waiting patiently for my return.

A calamity of emotions went through my heart and mind.

The knowledge that my parents loved me and cared for me was there. My medical care was amazing, I didn’t lack for anything besides normalcy. The knowledge that something was wrong was also there. I never dreamed that there were other families like mine. It’s for this reason that I’m sharing this part of my journey. Reality shows like Hoarders show a quick voyeuristic glimpse into several lives. It can’t capture the years of pain and isolation that children experience growing up in that environment. It doesn’t adequately show how families breakdown or the pain and suffering of the hoarder. It caters to ratings and showing a nice neat scripted view of life.

I’m happy that it brought awareness to the problem, and the possibility that it made it easier for others to seek help. I can tell you from my personal experience that it doesn’t all neatly fall into place in an hour – but if you or someone you love is a hoarder, I can tell you that you can have an amazing life despite, and in some cases like mine, because of the hoarding.

When my husband drove me home from ER, no mental prep was necessary. We drove to our home in warm sunny San Diego, and I grinned from ear to ear when I walked through the door. It’s been a lifetime journey and worth every single moment it took to get here.

Has there been a time when you felt as though you were the only one on earth going through a situation like yours? What did you do to cope?