I'm Okay You're Okay..............Okay?

Several years ago, my sister and I took a drive to La Conner Wa. There is a Tulip festival up there every year, and we decided, on a whim to take a drive and check it out. I've always been a sucker for the clean lines, and vibrant colors of a Tulip, indeed they are my favorite flower (Dahias, calm down you're pretty too.) In classic Washington State style however, the weather was cold, the Tulips were late, and we ended up looking at fields of green stalks.......We are not a couple gals who turn tail and give up on an adventure, so we wandered into town, found the nicest little restaurant and bar, and sidled on up for lunch and a glass of wine. As we sat chatting we couldn't help but overhear a very tense, angry and volatile interaction at the tale next to us. It turned out that the gentleman at the table had ordered a burger that took too long to appear before him, and when it finally did, it was not up to his carnivorous standards. After the server apologized, comped everyone's meal at the table, prostrated herself for flogging, and promised to live a miserable, and tortured existence, to make up for her wayward, service transgression, the table seemed slightly less hysterical and they got up to leave. Around that same time, I got up to use the restroom, and overheard the disgruntled carnivore in the hallway discussing his recent burger trauma with his date. And he said, and I quote: "That was one of the worst experiences of my life." Yup. You heard it here, tardy, bad burger = worst experience EVER!
I recently returned from a trip to San Diego for the annual IDEA World Fitness Conference. It was fine. I could have done with a little less self promotion and gadgetry, but over all it wasn't the best ( that would be Vegas 2005 um, Forum shops...) it wasn't the worst( that would be Anaheim 2000 um, Anaheim) it just kind of.....was. San Diego is pretty, the weather was nice, and the hotel was a hotel. The EXPO was small, but the sales push was big, big, big, this year. Every workout was going to Clean your clock! Kick Your ass! Wipe the floor with you! Stand on your hands! On a BOSU! With your eyes closed! juggling with your feet! No your FOOT, just one juggling foot! While someone punches you in the face and sprays you with a garden hose! You'll be the best! BEST! The most ripped! Your skin will look like saran wrap covering sinew! Like raw fucking steak!  THE BEST! BEST!!!!!!! It's the most fun. FUN! And hard it's so fucking hard you might not even live to tell a soul how hard it was.  But what's that I hear? Namaste? Huh? Ommm? What? Peaceful, breathy, flowy, stretchy, soooooooo happy. The HAPPIEST! Buddah, tummy, kiss, kiss, love love, smoochipie. Ain'tnothingonnabreakamystride, did I say Namatste? Wrap my leg around my neck, and stand on one foot? Carve sanskrit into my stomach? Pull my foot up over my shoulder? Both feet? And walk on my hands? And chant? And breathe? And be happy? ALWAYS be happy. hug a lot too.

Here's the deal. If the burger dude was honest when he proclaimed that a cold, belated burger equated to one of the worst experiences of his life, he has lead a mighty charmed life. Where do I sign up?
Conversely, Not every workout, has to push one to the point of mental and physical breakdown. Alas, yoga will not pay your bills, or fix your marriage. It absolutely can help manage stress as can many other forms of physical exertion. Adrenaline, endorphins, dopamine, oxygen, can make us all feel better. But yoga in and of itself does not make one a good person, just as the ability to balance on a BOSU does not make one an Olympic gymnast, or an NFL running back. But isn't that okay? Isn't it okay just to be okay? Just to have a day.?Just a day. A plain old random day. And isn't it okay to be pissed off sometimes? And happy, more times hopefully? It's okay for your kid to go to a state school or even, wait for it Community College!!!!! Dun dun Duuuuuun! Or how about this, maybe no college. Maybe she'll write poetry, drive a lunch truck and live with her boyfriend and their cat. Enough with the pressure, already. I just feel so guilty these days if I don't wax hyperbolic about, well about just about everything. I feel bad if I'm not super happy happy HAPPY! And I feel bad if I'm not OUTRAGED! about some stupid shit some nutjob said on FOX. I feel awkward if I'm not shitting a 5 lane freeway over the cheese I just ate, the music I just heard, the workout I just created, or the convention I just attended. I love, and I mean this, I really love my students and clients. But some times, like this morning in Kinesis for instance, it was just good enough that they got there, moved their bodies and felt good about getting their day started. And that made me feel..............Good enough.

Scoot down a little..........

I had my annual a couple weeks ago. Not to harp on the crazy ass situation I just peeled myself away from, but it's weird how I had 2 annual reviews within days of eachother. One was a job review and one was a quick check under the hood, if you know what I mean. So, I have probably the coolest, most qualified, most patient definitely most stylish Gynocologist EVER. Seriously people, she really is simply the best. AND! She does not deliver babies! Which means she has time to dedicate solely to my Va Jay Jay, and my neurosis. It really is a match made in the deep recesses of my mind.
However. Because she is the Nancy Wilson, the Hillary Clinton, and yes, the  Margaret Atwood of Gynecology, she is really quite busy. I had to settle for this other doctor. I had never heard of her. I was super stressed because parking sucked, I was late, I had just given my notice at my job, and before my appointment, the nurse made me stand on a scale with ALL my clothes on. I thought my head was going to explode. Honestly, at the end of the day, the table, the stirrups, the weirdo robe, the speculum "hi this might be a little cold." These things do not bug me. As chatty as I am , I prefer not to talk under these circumstances. Seriously, me no likey talky. Maybe if there was like some ambient lighting and a wine list. However, I just don't feel like chatting about stuff while bathed in bad lighting and wearing nothing but PUMA socks and dangling my pasty legs over a stainless steel table.  Like nothing. Okay, maybe, and I mean MAYBE I could chat about  The Patriots, but you know what? Probably not. That's right probably not. Not even my Tommy. No not even TB 12. I just want to get in and out. Wait, that didn't sound right..........
So, this new doctor, who I did not know, and who did not know my vagina. She starts asking all these invasive questions. Like "oh how are you" "periods normal?" " taking any vitamins?" " do you think Michelle Bachman really has the goods to become president?" That last one I made up. But the other ones were totally true. As I pointed out earlier, I was pretty stressed out (refer to aforementioned post) and I was in no mood for the third degree. But this lady doctor, she would not let up. Now she's talking about hormones, and freaking some sort of random something that gets secreted during elderly periods. Whatever. But then, get this. She starts talking about decades. Like your 20's are the time when you make some mistakes. Apparently, for some people it's a time when they might dance on bars, and date undesirables (who does this?)Your 30's are the time when you hopefully take some responsibility for who you are and come to some sort of detente with regard to things for which you blame your family. Your 40's are a time when you really dial down on the circle of authentic and sincere meaningful relationships with which you choose to surround yourself. Totally! Yes! This is true! Well for me it is anyway.
SO. As luck would have it, the very next week, my very good friend Kristy, facebooked (yup it's a word, I said so) me and requested my presence at lunch. I have not seen Kristy for quite a little while, and never a more authentic person has graced the earth. Kismet, you say? I say yes!!!!! We had lunch today and talked our heads off for almost 3 hours. Holy crap, seriously, I told her my story of a bunch of stuff, and she regaled me with tales of jury duty(as it turns out, The Hurricane on 6th Ave. right down the street from Lil Darlins is host to some rather unseemly characters.) We ate great food, talked without taking a breath, and reconnected. And I couldn't help think about what Dr. Nosey had said. Different decades have different lessons. Just be quiet for a minute, concentrate, breathe, and see if you can hear what your life and experience have to say. From what I found, it can be really scary. It can also be pretty liberating. In any case, it is what it is..........Wherever you go there you are.

When I was 19 I went to Bumbershoot with a girlfriend. We wandered the Seattle Center grounds searching  for something worthy of our sophisticated sensibilities. Considering that I was fresh off of a bender of Journey, and Billy Squire, I was in no mood to suffer mediocre art. We scoured the program for the least offensive show we could find, and ended up settling for George Thorogood, of the Bad To The Bone Thorogoods..............Anyhoo, as it turned out, there was a blues band playing before him that we were loathe to tap our feet to. As I was feigning interest, and smoothing out my turquoise stirrup pants, a rather attractive gentleman asked me for the time..................I married him 5 years later. Let's just get that out there. But here's the deal. The minute he walked up to me, and sized me up like a junk bond(it was 1982 remember) I knew something wasn't right. You know when so many things are going through your head, and nothing really seems to register? It was like that. I was 19, he was 27,he looked like a surfer, and had big teeth,  he didn't have a job that I could decipher, there was a blues band sleeping on the floor of his house, he drove a Porche..................So you see, so much to be wary of, Oh! Oh! there was the raging drug problem. And I mean PROBLEM. Like A&E Intervention problem. The point is, I just kept going along with the relationship even though it was clearly riddled with issues. It wasn't until I landed at Pro Robics, (the studio where I have been teaching for the past 24 years,) and surrounded myself with folks who lifted me up and allowed me to flourish as a person, did I find the self esteem to leave him, and file for divorce.
This self esteem thing, as it turns out is a continual work in progress. I left, well, we'll call him "Chip." I left Chip in 1989, my divorce was final in 1990. My divorce was final, yes, but I'm a work in progress as we all are. I've been teaching and training at Pro Robics since 1987, and although there have been ups and downs, I've always felt a sense of family there. I've never had that crappy feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me nervous about those for whom I work, or where I work. Let me say this; sometimes you don't know that something is not good or right for you until you extricate yourself from it.  Too often we push those nagging thoughts of discomfort to the back of our mind, because the money is(hmmmm,or was) good, we want to keep the peace, it's a hassle to change, or we're just lazy and it's "not that bad."
I recently left a job where I have been walking on pins and needles for 3 years. It's curious how over the course of time my foot got callused and those pins and needles didn't hurt quite as bad. Sure once and a while one would really stick me, but for the most part I toughened up. I learned to wear thicker soles, and steel myself for impact. They say that when one's anxiety is heightened, the body does an amazing job to self protect. And many times, it's not until one is out of the battle that one realizes how stressful it was. The anxiety is still there but the threat no longer exists.
If you feel a little pit, a little voice, a tiny prick on the foot, maybe it's time to step away. Give it a minute, if the anxiety and stress melts away in a matter of days, maybe it's best to call it quits.
I know it was for me...............
Peace.

Change

Is good.