BROKEN...but still Beautiful...

This is a BEAUTIFUL stem glass my Mother brought back for me from Isola Bella, an island in the middle of Lake Maggiore in Northern Italy.  

After ONE ...

yes..ONE use, 

I successfully broke it!! 

It safely made the journey from Italy to the US, from NJ to NC, and lasted about 20 minutes in my possession.
But it is a perfect example of a beautifully broken glorious disaster ....

"Maybe some people just like to be sick.." he said, as I was reflecting on how my lil small town medical office is like the "Cheers" of Rural NC.

Because when you are here...EVERYBODY KNOWS YOUR NAME because you are here

EVERY.
DAMN.
WEEK..

Because maybe some people just like to be sick.

Because maybe some of us only know how to exist in perpetual 'recovery'...

BECAUSE...

“Life is what happens as you live with the wounds. Life is not a matter of getting the wounds out of the way so that you can finally live. Wounds are never permanently erased. We are fragile beings, and some days we break all over again.” Geneen Roth

But the question is.......can you co exist with someone else and continue to watch them break all over again ...and trust that they can put the pieces back together again, even if they don't want to use your glue??

Can you allow yourself to continue to break all over again, in their presence, knowing you will not accept their glue...and knowing the heartache you are causing as they watch your pieces crumble to the ground?

Or maybe when we break all over again together, our pieces get mixed up during the "clean up"...and we end up with some of the other's pieces glued to ourselves ......

and together we become a magnificent collage o' ruins...

....a BEAUTIFUL and GLORIOUS disaster.

And maybe its better to enjoy being simultaneously broken...revel in your glorious disaster-ness...
and not try so hard to glue each other back together again...

Because we are all RECOVERING ..

EVERY.
DAMN.
DAY.

whether its wounds from the day, week or years ago.

Some of us are just so much more "cool" about it....and don't get their feathers ruffled, or their panties in a bind.

But there are some of us are who are a total DISASTER...running, and pedaling, and starving and punishing ourselves for being susceptible to such wounds in the first place.

Because sometimes my hands will literally tremble and shake as I try to get the food to my mouth. And I often wonder if my "clumsy" is just my subtle attempt to drop the food on purpose so I won't have to eat it.

Or maybe I'm shaking and trembling because I drink COPIOUS amounts of coffee... :)

And maybe I need to stop drinking it black...and add a little creamer every now and then.
Because there are times when the starvation...like the black coffee..becomes too bitter...

And maybe the eating disorder doesn't have to be SO DAMN SERIOUS all the time...

Because the funny thing about the eating disorder...is that its NOT about the food....
Its about protection..and survival.

And it is in the starving where I can find the answers.

Starvation helps to eliminate the unnecessary..strips me down to the core, and allows me to focus
on the most vital concerns...

like survival ...

But maybe I don't need to spend every day just "trying to survive"..

Maybe I can spend some days actually LIVING.

I can add a little bit o' cream...and sit back and enjoy the beautiful and glorious disastrous collage we have created together ..

until one of us breaks...

ALL

OVER

AGAIN.

Floppy Ears....

"Much of pharmacological treatment comes down to trial and error. Many times medication can help, but in the end a pill cannot heal a soul."

~Brian T. Maurer
https://briantmaurer.wordpress.com

My healing comes in the way of the woods and words.

I write to heal myself, because anytime my pen hits paper, or fingers hit keyboard = I AM HEALED.
Anytime my feet (or fat tires) hit a trail and I can breathe in that fresh, unencumbered oxygen directly from the trees = I AM HEALED.
Romping through the woods often feels like I’m wrapping myself in a warm blanket..

However, sometimes, even at maximum dose, these medicines do not heal.
And there I am, in pain, idly waiting, for the healing to begin….
And I’m reminded that maybe in order to maximize their effectiveness, I need to find a more appropriate dose, or the “therapeutic range” of my medications.

Truth is, I’ve been told that I'm "nuts", "crazy", " maniacal", "not human".... constantly pushing the limits, RARELY operating within the therapeutic range.

However, I prefer to be known as "passionate".

PASSION Defined:
1. the suffering and death of Jesus
2. a barely controllable emotion

SUFFERING + BARELY CONTROLLABLE, alas, I am a passionate one.

And I credit this passion to the ~50% Italian/Sicilian blood that courses through my veins.

Because even at less than maximum dose of Italian, I am provided enough fuel for the relentless pursuit of both pleasure....

and pain.

I’m constantly stoking the fire, a “controlled burn” if you will, of my many..MANY passions, in all of their various forms.

(And side note – “controlled burn” is also the name of a local kombuha, to which I’ve developed a mild addition. It contains all the spicy elements I love and crave.....Ginger/Cayenne/Turmeric..and that bubbly Majesty that makes it a kombucha.)

...and my "controlled burn” may come in the way of….

the perfect pedal..
the perfect run.......
the perfect trail....
the hard, fast breath...
the racing heart....
the pounding in my chest....
the dripping, salty sweat....
the perfect pour..
a "stinging" spice ....
the perfect "heat"...
the perfect adult libation ...
the perfect look...
the perfect touch..
the perfect laugh...
the perfect thought..
the perfectly crafted words....
the perfect pooch walk/hike..
the perfect breeze...
the perfect breath of fresh air....
the perfect floppy ears head shake...
the perfect diagnosis,..
the perfect "prescription"

And since nothing is ever perfect...it keeps me coming back for MORE....because when it feels GOOD...MORE is always better....right?

But is it more PAIN or PLEASURE that I seek?

Or maybe I am just a sadist, addicted to the pain, the heart pounding, head spinning, breathlessness of life….

As Kurt Vonnegut has so eloquently stated: 

"Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of."

― Kurt Vonnegut

Aaaaa.... Thank you Kurt, because I do believe that PAIN…. is ....EXQUISITE.

And through the sadism, starvation, and “controlled burning”, I can strip myself down to the core, and see what’s inside.

I can expose the wound,
feel the pain, let it bleed.

And now that it is bleeding, 

it can begin to heal...all.over.again.

Because it is through the HEALING where I find the enlightenment,
the inspiration,
the motivation,
to seek pleasure, and LIVE....all.over.again.

But must I/you/WE continue to endure pain first, before we find the pleasure?

Must it be the PAIN that defines us?

WHO am I....if i'm not constantly in pain,,?
WHO am I ……if I'm NOT starving??

Maybe I am constantly pushing the limits of physical pain because I’m just not sure I can endure the emotional pain…?
Or ....

maybe I push the limits of physical pain to ENSURE I can endure the emotional pains.

But what happens when we are at MAX dose of all our medications, and still not healed?

How do we find the therapeutic range??

How do we "control the burn"..???

Who knows....

But as I held her head in my hands, my nose pressed to her fuzzy nose, and I matched my breath to her last few, she gave me one last head shake, so I can hear her floppy ears, and I’m reminded of the 14 incredible years she gave me. And while she technically was a “rescue”, SHE was the one who saved ME. And now, neither one of us need to remain in chronic pain, physical or emotional. 

 And with or without medication, I know I can endure it all,

because she is  watching over me...…

And whether you realize it or not, there is someone watching over YOU TOO....to ensure you find the therapeutic range for your medications....and can once again, find that pleasure of the healing.
ALL.OVER.AGAIN.

And ..if you do not believe this is true...
 well..

Stevie will keep an eye out for your too. :) 

Rest in peace Stevie Lynn – 5/11/17

Old DOGS....

NS2 AND THE CAROLINA THEATRE OF DURHAM PRESENT

THREE DOG NIGHT

With Walker County

Friday, March 24 | 8PM

A delightful show I attended with my parents and hubby.  Not quite the epic-sold-out-elaborate-stadium performances we are used to with our Bruce or Metallica shows, but inspiring nonetheless.

Cuz as I watched the lead singer do his "Parkinson's shuffle" up to the microphone, I realized that when you LOVE something, when you are utterly and truly PASSIONATE about something, you will do the SHIT out of it...

And no amount of arthritis, cardiovascular disease, hip replacement or otherwise failing body parts will deter you from your ability to"DANCE TO THE MUSIC."

But what am I passionate about anymore??

Who knows...

I founded myself a career in medicine because I thought I could offer so much more in this venue then the career I was formerly in.
But admittedly, I have been feeling as if I'm only offering the bare minimum these days.
Do I mostly just exist to refill medications?

No thought...no heart...just hit "transmit to pharmacy"

This isn't what I was hoping for...

Way back when the kitchen and I used to get along...
I would often turn out what I thought to be my MOST EPIC and INGENIOUS culinary or baking concoctions. Only for them to be met with an "eh" or otherwise underwhelming response.

More often, it was my "crap-o-la" or screws ups that were on their way into the trash, but somehow landed in the hands of an innocent bystander, that were met with the excessive praise and adulation that I was seeking.

Similar to medicine, my most EPIC and INGENIOUS "concoctions" seem to go unnoticed, as patients tend to be more concerned with the pain in their side, cut on their finger, or unusual looking toe nail,
oh..."And can you refill my blood pressure medication?"

But listening to Three Dog Night's words in front of a sold out osteoarthritic crowd, I was inspired as I watched the audience members slowly rise from their seats, and carefully make their way into the aisle where they were immediately transformed into their former junior selves. I was enthralled as they danced and sang and clapped along to the lyrics they recalled from many decades ago.

We were instructed to  "CELEBRATE, CELEBRATE, CELEBRATE"... bring "JOY TO THE WORLD" ....and most importantly ..

"Got to get back to some good time living..gotta gotta got to get back to GOOD living..."

And watching the sheer joy and enthusiasm among the crowd, I realized...

Maybe these folks just needed to have their "prescriptions refilled" for tonite. 

I continue to be enthralled and inspired, by my aging pooch.  In her 14th year of life, her hind parts failing her as she drags herself around the house.  But this B*ATCH DOES NOT GIVE UP. And until I can find her a suitable doggie wheelchair, she will continue to wake up every morning, drag herself out of her sleeping corner. and wait by the door to go out so she may continue to to sniff and hunt as she has done all her life.... as she too needs to  "TO GET BACK TO THE GOOD LIVING."

And I'm not even saddened watching this scene....because I can still see the "puppy" in her eyes.

Similar to how I could still see the "puppy" in the "old dogs" at the concert.

Observing all these "old dogs" I begin to realize...

Maybe we don't have to be at our most "EPIC" and "INGENIOUS"  or "sold-out-stadium" selves in order to inspire.  Maybe we can inspire just as well while hobbling up to the microphone, dragging ourselves through the yard...or simply refilling someones medication.

Because maybe sometimes that's all someone needs... "TO GET BACK TO THE GOOD LIVING."

She'll always be a puppy to me...

The First Cup....

I continue to starve myself..

and I starved myself of the woods this past weekend.
So when I returned to them this morning...it all came RUSHING back in like a massive flood.

All was so CLEAR..the delicious sounds ...the scrumptious views.
The steep descents that spilled me into the low pockets of warmth.
Just like that a fine glass o' red....that is deep and warm.

When you get down into those deep spots...in the red...there's a lot of work to be done to get out.
But sometimes you just wanna stay wrapped in that warmth for a while.

Eventually...
you decide to pull yourself out.

And as you ascend up the steep climb back to the top, you notice the AMAZING and DELICIOUS views.
And while it may be a little chilly up here, its like that bright crisp white, a Pinot or Sauvignon Grig if you will.

It is clean, dry...

CLEAR

And you can finally see all the majestic views before you.

This AM run felt like I was wrapping myself in a warm, comfy blanket,.alas, as if I was still asleep.....

and i'm reminded:

“That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.” 
~Willa Cather

And I actually did NOT want to over do this one...
I was quite satisfied with "the first cup".
I didn't feel the urge..
or insistence..
or those terrible STARVING pangs for wanting
needing ...
more..

Because that "first cup"
was just right...

 I hope you too might find that "first cup" ...that is JUST RIGHT for you.

There's beauty in the bleeding...

BLEEDING ME

~Metallica

I'm diggin' my way to somethin' better

I'm pushin' to stay with something better

I'm sowing the seeds I take for granted

This thorn in my side is from the tree I've planted

It tears me and I bleed.....

Oh that thorn in my side.....how it bleeds me....

But then there was the day ...TODAY....when I woke up and I DID NOT WANT TO RUN....

but, this is my day off...my free day to go romp in the woods..how could I NOT WANT THIS???

Nope...not on this morning.


I did not want to RUN AWAY from the thorn in my side.


I decided instead of earning my food today...I would do it backwards.


I decided I would pedal to the coffee FIRST...without feeling the obligation to "earn it".


And as I pedal through downtown Raleigh with the sun rising over the high rise buildings and headed toward my usual coffee establishments, I whiz past a coffee shop I've never noticed before.

In large white block letters on the big bay windows i see "DRAFT COFFEE"...

wha wha whaaat??

My head exploded. Coffee on DRAFT? NO WAY...

As this is not my "usual" coffee spot...I lock the bike outside with a bit of hesitancy, but we'll give it a try, its bizzaro-backwards world today anyways so let's throw caution to the wind - literally, cuz it was windy as hell through those city streets!!

I slowly enter. this new find.....and the first thing I notice on the chalk board menu below written neatly below COFFEE is:

SLOW COFFEE (pour over) $4.50

OH.MY.GOD...am I still sleeping, I must be DREAMING??

The beautiful barista even allows me to sample the "fast batch brews" before I decide to commit to the slow pour over. While my selection is being prepared I wander over to the coffee bar and wonder if its possible that this establishment might also possess one of my other "standards" of fine estalishmentary....HOOKS below the bar. Because another thing that drives me absolutely BANANA HAMMOCKS is when a bar does NOT offer hooks with which to hang my baggage. Cuz don't most of us saunter up to a bar with some sorta baggage that we need to hang for a while???

I slowly bend over to peak below....and ALAS there, shimmering in the morning sunlight, are perfectly placed hooks for my "baggage".

OH.MH.GOD...I MUST STILL BE DREAMING!

I hang my items just as I'm handed my slow pour over, which is served in a "for here" mug, as I'm finally gonna stick around for a while..

I takes a sip of the brew...black...no cream...

And....

IT

IS

MAGNIFICENT...

The perfect temperature...the perfect rate of flow of the warm, smooth, silky brew over the thick rim of the mug as it passes my lips and down my gob to warm my belly on this chilly morning.
I peak underneath the mug, while not a VICTOR mug, this is OK, as they are understandably hard to come by.
Instead, imprinted below this mug is a kind reminder of the beauty of a "SLOW BREW"

I find it ironic that I prefer my coffee to be SLOW, while everything else in my life insists on being so FAST, in such a flurry, always on the go, always so "strung out".

I watch downtown Raleigh outside the window of this fine new establishment. I watch cars whiz by. and wind blow around the pedestrians.....I even notice a few runners trot by...

not for me today.

I continue to sip my slow brew, called "Wengo" from a roaster on the west coast - Huckleberry.

The coffee is smooth, balanced, not too much spice or smoke to it...

Kinda like how I feel right now..smooth, balanced, not too much spice or smoke to me right now. I don't feel the urge to whiz around, I am actually feeling comfortable in this stillness....

and I don't always need a second cup..
if I allow myself to enjoy the first.

Oh I feel dizzy and drunk with inspiration....

Here I am..in a NEW coffee establishment..that has met all of my fine establishmentary standards.

Typing away on a NEW laptop..that doesn't have all the "stains and spills" that my former did, as she suffered an untimely demise at the hands of an exploding fizzy-seltzer drink in my commuter bag while pedaling along on a chilly morning many weeks ago.

But maybe it was for the best, as so much DISORDER went into that laptop.

I think about the disorder, and the starvation. There seems to be something very pure and cleansing about starvation, a DETOX, if you will.

But man I been "detoxing" for quite some time now.
And I'm finding it harder and harder to stay AHEAD of the burn, and stay AHEAD of the hunger.

But I feel that through the "starvation", I am able to eliminate too much stimulus, which allows me to see things much more clearly. But like everything else, this too can only be good in small doses, 'cuz then the scale tips and the starvation becomes ..

relentless...
maddening..
controlling,..

and it robs you of your "beauty"..

But there still are plenty of days when I WANT to starve...I NEED to starve..

Why?

Because there's beauty in the bleeding...
and in the spilling..
and in all of the stains in my life...
and clarity in the starving...to realize all of this.

I am so frustrated with myself because I am constantly spilling and staining, but I suppose that's what happen when you you constantly "overfill" your cup.

Why must I always have so much?
My appetite for everything seems to be insatiable..and for this, I am perpetually ashamed.

I am ashamed of my THIRST and HUNGER and GLUTTONY for EVERYTHING in this life..

for slowly poured AND CRACK coffee....
For fine Spanish AND Italian reds AND delicate crisp French whites
AND...creamy west coast Chards..
For beautifully written words and novels to cram into my bookcase
For colorful markers and pens and sharpies to decorate my world...
For witty greeting cards and stationary to share my thoughts...
For plants and flowers and vines to accentuate mother nature's splendor....
For diagnoses..and treatments...and medication interactions ....
For tunes...and Bruce...and Metallica.....and Bob...
For trails ....and pedaling ....and paddling...and plodding....
For hooded sweatshirts and warm comfy pull overs.....
For long scrumptious socks to keep my tootsies toasty....
For four paws and floppy ears....
For bread...and butter ....AND food..AND snacks...

I do love food...and I do love LIFE.

And I want to enjoy food and not feel guilty about it....
I want to run and ride and jump and paddle...and not feel pain while doing so.
When did it all become so painful?
Why do i find myself in so many coffee shops?
And why don't I blow over in this wind when I feel that I should?

Because there's beauty in the bleeding...

I'm tired of being ashamed for being such a mess...

Because there's beauty in the bleeding...

And I believe there is beauty in EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US....in our bleeding, in our spilling, in our stains...
As this is what makes us WHO WE ARE...and we are all BEAUTIFUL JUST AS WE ARE.
And we should NEVER be ashamed of WHO WE ARE..

I believe in YOU...and I thank you...dear friend....who reads these words ...for continuing to inspire me and for believing in ME..and all my stains :)

 

Shaken not stirred...with a lil' bit o' butta....

It drives me absolutely BANANA HAMMOCKS when someone does NOT know what a pour over coffee is??!?!

How can you work in a restaurant/bar/coffee serving establishment and NOT know what a pour over coffee is?

How can you be a human being and have never let your lips taste the majestic silkiness that is a slowly poured and carefully crafted brew??
Smooth JUST.LIKE.BUTTA......

But then I decided to try black coffee...
It was an accident actually. An overly aggressive pour into my thermos necessitated a quick volume depletion, but that lil sip was surprisingly satisfying.
Although I learned quickly that I can only handle it in small amounts, as it does become a little bitter after a while.
Kinda like the eating disorder, it can satisfy, but after a while, it gets bitter, and I need to add a little bit o' cream...
or BUTTER??

Cuz then I drank CRACK COFFEE:

From Raleigh Raw in Downtown Raleigh:

CRACK COFFEE

blended with COCONUT OIL & grass fed BUTTER

sm $2.25, lg $4.00

And my head exploded...THIS.IS.EFFIN.AMAZING..

And then that same day I decided to dust off the red hot SS with the fat tires and put them to the trails...after ...well...an amount of time for which I'm embarrassed to admit.

It was time...to find myself in the woods again.

And my head exploded...THIS.IS.EFFIN.AMAZING..

And the ride was just like the crack coffee, I know I could drink A SH$T TON!
BUT ..I certainly don't wanna over do this one, cuz it will be MOST DELICIOUS...
in SMALLER doses.

Similar to the eating disorder/compulsions, its actually tolerable, and sometimes helpful, but only in the appropriate dose...

the "Therapeutic Range " if you will.

Like any perfectly crafted cocktail, which are always served in the tiniest glasses...
they too are best served in small does, and...
SHAKEN NOT STIRRED.

I think I need to be SHAKEN NOT STIRRED ...

Shaken into the reality of all that is great and gorgeous in my life...
Not 'stirring' up the 'insists'..and the 'shoulds'...
and the compulsions..
and the punishments...

'cuz it wasn't my fault.

I need to be shaken into the appreciation of all that is BEAUTIFUL in this life...
THIS LIFE RIGHT HERE.

Look past the weeds to the flowers.
Look past the obstacles and rock gardens...and steep climbs and dangerous drops...and let the fat tires (or my two feet!) float me through the dream sequence that is the magnificent trail which I  glide along...

“That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.” ~Willa Cather

And that's what if felt like to put the fat tires on the trail again..
Smooth JUST.LIKE.BUTTA.
It was as if I was still asleep.
And just like sleep...it felt like a DREAM...

Can this really be HAPPENING???
Am I REALLY FEELING THIS GOOD???
and is it OK to feel THIS GOOD???

Reminds me of an amaze-balls trail that I used to...I USED TO ..ride called Warrior Creek, way back when I once felt like...
A WARRIOR.

When I first rode it I felt SOOOO NAUGHTY, because it felt SO DAMN GOOD, for the ENTIRE ride!
Often the most epic rides include countless, treacherous, gnarly and painful climbs..
With tons o' rocks, short and steep diggers, and long, agonizing, steep/twisty/turns.
THAT.
NEVER.
END.

BUT...there's always a PAYOFF. And ohhhh the PAYOFF makes it all worth it!

Downhills with straight lines that are slick and...

Smooth... JUST.LIKE.BUTTA......

It's as if your flying and your tires aren't even touching the ground.
Descents with burms so deep that after you glide up and around you are literally CATAPULTED out the other end like a human roller coaster.

But on Warrior Creek, there are a plethora o' payoffs, but sans the precipitating agony.
There are some climbs and "gnarliness" to keep you honest, but it wasn't the endless agony to which I had grown accustomed to.
I just felt SO NAUGHTY while I was riding.

I always feel "naughty" when I experience the good without the bad (a nod to my Italian-Catholic upbringing maybe ?).

Is it okay to feel good without feeling so badly first?

Cuz it often feels 'naughty' to actually enjoy food...

But then there was the whole fiasco at my regularly frequented coffee shop today when they RAN OUT of coffee creamer.
Ummmm...ecsqueeze me??

So instead, I dropped in a lil' bit o' butta .....

And my head exploded...DAMN..this is EFFIN AMAZING..

And I am a genius, cuz sometimes you just need to add a lil bit o' butta...

and I certainly don't feel naughty about that.

So from my heart to yours...when amidst a fiasco....just add..a lil' bit o butta...

Thank you SS for allowing me to be "naughty" again, and without the guilt that typically ensues.

Ironically the fat tire SS is called ]FETISH FIXATION
As I definitely have a FETISH for this FIXATION...
as she rides so smooth..

JUST.

LIKE.

BUTTA.

(And P.S - If you are one of the pour souls who does NOT know what pour over coffee is, I respectfully request you drop whatever it is you are doing RIGHT NOW, and head straight to your nearest snobby coffee shop..do not pass GO..do not collect $200! If you are in the Raleigh or Durham area, gimme a holla and I can tell you where to go.. :) )

Victor mugs....

THE VICTOR MUG "Each genuine Victor coffee mug [Victor is imprinted on the bottom of each] weighs more than a pound and is made of the finest fired clay porcelain. This excellent mug is virtually indestructible . Victor mugs would invite a sense of stability, permanence, and comfort. " http://victormug.com/


"Just like the curse just like the stray...
you feed it once...
and now it stays...."
(Until it Sleeps, Metallica, 1996)

The words blast in my ears as I romp through the woods...
So which beast do I feed today? Is it the one that wants to starve me....make me run on empty?

'Cuz I can't begin to count the number of days when I'm operating on "battery power" from a battery that's ready to crap out at any minute. But that beast insists on earning and deserving, even for the most basic necessities.. ..like food.

But I'm slowly realizing how much more I can accomplish when I’m not STARVING..

Starving for attention, understanding, human connection…

Or just plain ole’ nourishment…

I've found that in the absence of adequate nourishment …I CRAVE and CHASE “that BURN" that I've spoken of before....

And its insatiable..
And sometimes frightening..
And often maddening....

And while I am cruising/dragging/or being "pushed" along the trails, I often wonder if I'm "chasing" or "being chased" ..
But I know this is where I can both "loose her" and "find her" all over again.
Although sometimes its frightening to enter those trails on any give day...
because I just don't know which "beast" will show up...

The beast that wants to punish, push, pull, berate, starve.....
or the gentle beast, who knows how to adequately nourish the "fire in her belly" without the maddening hunt.

And SOMETIMES you haphazardly run into one of your old running buddies on that trail and get to enjoy an "accidentally glorious" jaunt.  And the happenstance meeting reminds you to look up from the trail every now and again...and APPRECIATE all that nature has offered you.

Because I think I would like to finally look up from the trail and LIVE my LIFE... and not just exist in perpetual RECOVERY.  I so easily forget how far I've come and how many things I've already recovered from but ...UGH...I'm EXHAUSTED and tired of "RECOVERING".

But maybe life is a continual cycle of living...hurting...recovering...and then living again.  And in the "living again" we are reminded to be appreciative of all that we may have forgotten we were fortunate enough to have in the first place...

Like the the natural progression of the woods, ....the trails are forever changing.  Sometimes they're clean and safe to pass through mindlessly.  Sometimes after a hard rain there are slicks spots or new roots that can trip you in an instant.  And while these trails are the same trails I've traversed a million and one times...there's an impermanence to them, which keeps me coming back for more.

In the fall, they are covered with glorious colors and layered with sheets of leaves that give them an extra "plushness".

In the winter the trees are barren, but you can see so much further and so much more of the water or hidden creeks that you don't see when the trees are in full bloom.

In the Spring they are luscious and green, with wildlife and foliage that constantly catch your eye.

In the summer, unfortunately, there are horse flies as big as golf balls that will HUNT YOU DOWN...chase you, circle you...they are relentless in their pursuit.  And to add insult to injury, their bite is VICIOUS.  Therefore, you are left appearing quite insane as you run along in a fit of madness yelling and swatting and throwing fists in the air ..

An eating disorder is like a horse fly....

Relentless in its pursuit...constantly circling ..looking to bite you at any minute...
Sometimes it will disappear.
But then it flies back in outta no where, when least expected...and there I am ....
Throwing fists in the air ...

I want to be like that Victor mug....indestructible...and with a sense of stability, permanence, and....
COMFORT.

I've gotten so used to being uncomfortable that I forgot what it is to be comfortable anymore...,

Maybe that's what I chase in the woods...

Because during this morning's jaunt, there was a spot on the trails where I could actually "smell" the warmth and comfort of the sun......
and even though I was trudging up "cemetery hill" (Yes...there is literally a cemetery at the top of this hill ...in case you don't make it.),
my breathing was labored,
my heart was pounding,

And I ironically felt...COMFORTABLE.

The woods ALWAYS ALWAYS nourish me....
And in the end...the gentle beast almost ALWAYS emerges...

feeling FULLY nourished.

And if you are reading this...you have nourished me in some very important and vital way at some point along my "trails"..

I hope in return I may have nourished you and your soul in some fashion ...and hopefully have encouraged you to find YOUR comfort...
whether it be in the woods...
or in the early morning...
or late evening ...

..or with a nice cup o' joe in a VICTOR MUG..

AND FOR THOSE HISTORY BUFFS...here is the HISTORY of the Victor Mug..
http://victormug.com/Victor.pdf

The Perfect HIT...

I crack a bottle o' red...twist off. 

Why? Cause I've already done so much activity today that I'm too damn lazy to deal with a cork...

I can run countless miles in the trails + pedal myself silly + pull ups and push ups galore + pooch walk + farmers market + yard clean up....

but the thought of pulling the cork outta a bottle of wine is agonizing...

ANYWAYS...

It’s a pain when the inspiration "hits mid pedal”.  But sometimes, that's just when the "hit" finds me, and that's how it happened yesterday afternoon.

I was craving words but could come up with none.  But as soon as I hop in my saddle BAM...WORDS IN MY HEAD like the news stream on the bottom of the CNN channel.

You see, I’m a proud pedaler.AND piddler...

I ALWAYS start the day out with some sorta pedal, but yesterday I also enjoyed a mid morning "piddle". 

I piddle around the house…move this here.... hang this there…or maybe there?

No this should go here…oh wow I forgot I had this!

Clean this, fold that..

Feed this…water that......

Hmmm...what am I feeding today? Or better yet....what feeds me today?

Was it the piddle or the pedal?

Its a continuous cycle of piddling, pedaling, fueling, feeding,.chasing.

I'm always chasing the “belly burn”.  I LOVE the feeling of the BURN in my belly. 

Maybes the burn comes from the perfect Kombucha..or Pellegrino …

or the perfect pour over coffee...or the impeccable cappuccino…

or that perfect glass o’ red….or the pristine ginger mule ..or the faultless bloody Mary…

I'm constantly chasing perfection…is this what medicine has done to me?

Because during the "down times", i.e., on weekends/mornings/evening, when I'm away from medicine, and in the absence of treating patients, its as if my mind is spinning on idle...but still CRAVING that "burn".

So while my mind "idles"... my belly craves that "burn of perfection" ....

Why is it in the form of lavish coffees and red wines? Who knows…

Maybe its my Italian heritage, but that only accounts for 50 % of moi, the other 50% of moi = Austrian, English, Swiss …possibly German? Maybe that explains the "outlying" Bloody Mary crave?

But please do not misinterpret this "perfection pursuit" as a pompous attempt to attain some sort of"exceptional" status.  Its not that those of us who work in medicine are “brilliant” or “genius” or some type of superior being for doing what we do.  

If anything, its quite the OPPOSITE.

We must be quite mad to devote such a large portion of our brains to memorize and house all of the information for diagnoses, treatments, drug interactions, contraindications, starting doses, red flags and coding crap-o-la, such that we are barely able to muster an iota of brain power to devote to even the simplest tasks.

I've watched my husband struggle to use our manual can opener.

Tonight, I got in a heated battle with saran wrap and lost...miserably...it wasn't.even.close.

But we continue to seek out that next “hit” of perfection, whether its through medicine, or various caffeinated beverages and adult libations.

But the difference is, in medicine, you HAVE TO BE PERFECT. 

You have someone else's health and well being in your hands, EVER.DAY.

EVERY DAY someone is staring back at me looking for answers to achieve their version of "perfection".  

Maybes its to be in less pain, or to feel happier, or to have lower blood pressure, or higher self esteem...or to have a daily bowel movement.

WHATEVER it is...they look to us for the answers....

And I gotta admit..I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE THEM.

Last week I was faced with a patient with sudden onset diarrhea...and I was CLUELESS.  

I remember thinking "hmmm..you should see someone about that".  

Oh yeah ...that someone is ME ...!!!

Oy vey....

Can I handle this???

Lemme sip summore red and mull this over....

Sometimes I wanna feel...and sometimes I don't...

Sometimes I can't possible fathom "feeling all the feels" 

Sometimes I need a little help to feel...

Sometime I wanna taste the food...

and sometimes I don't want to allow myself to enjoy it...

Last Friday at crack o' dawn AM my Ipod crapped out and I ended up doing the majority of my "AM insanity" at the gym sans head phones.  Therefore I had to actually HEAR my breathlessness and hear my heart racing.

and it was surprisingly...

quite lovely...

Normally I "numb it out" so I can 't hear how hard my body is working to try to keep up with my racing mind.  Possibly because if I could actually perceive how hard my body was working I would stop dead in my tracks, because no sane person would put their body through this.

But it was actually quite liberating to be able to "hear" myself struggling, but knowing I can continue through the struggle.  Just like I continued on through that sloshy, icey, muddy trail run last week, despite the warnings to turn back.

Because its through that struggle that I can recognize my strength....

Because there is beauty in the bleeding ...

And as Aristotle so eloquently put it...

"There is no genius without having a touch of madness.” 

So maybe I'm a genius after all...

We are ALL A TAD MAD in our own right...
THEREFORE...we are ALL A GENIUS ...

CONGRATS to you for your geniousness...

And thanks again for inspiring me to share my genius views with you...

=D

This is the small homemade sign I bought for myself for my birthday last night after enjoying a MOST delicious dinner with my friends + red x 2 :) ..an imported blend from France, and I thought the French were the Chardonnay/white authorities!

SO yes...I will indeed attempt to write something EVER. DAY...even if it sucks...because nothing sucks more than losing your mind...and your artists ...down the rat hole of medicine.

Taking care of people is HARD.
REALLY. EFFIN. HARD.
But rewarding...?
Indeed..no doubt.  
Fulfilling??? absolutely...
Do I love it? Yes..some days more than others ... =D

But at the end of the day/shift...after you're plowed through all of your F&CKS for the day (i.e..YES...I really do give a F%CK about this person in front of me who needs my help...), its nearly impossible to give another F%CK about caring for yourself...or those in closest proximity to you, or who even may share residency with you.

But these are the MOST IMPORTANT F%CKs to give...

Therefore I will continue to try to determine how I might most effectively reserve these most precious and important F%CKs...

And when I figure it out...I'll let you know...

if you really give a F%CK..

Yes...this indeed did SUCK...(ooh lookey...I rhymed !!)

The Ball Pit...

I wake to hear rain drops puttering outside...
boooo...rain rain go away...why do you hate me world??
I hear her floppy years shake..
she's ready...
I guess I'm ready too.
Although I could get used to this sleeping in ...

But when I walk outside it is a GLORIOUS morning as the fog and mist lift....it wasn't rain but the melting snow that was puttering ...Maybe it WILL be a sunny day after all.
I can't WAIT to romp around in the trails o' Umstead.
As I embark on my journey I completely forget about the morning commuters...i guess its not EVERYBODY's birthday today.

I get to the park and the parking lot is STILL a sheet of ice...hadn't considered this. Wonder how the trails will be?
I very carefully and meticulously "heel-toe" my way towards the trails.
I see two runners running right towards me as I begin my jaunt..why are they running right at me..?
"They're trashed" she says..."The trails are a mess...ice, slush..mud"
Her runner buddy nods in concurrence....
"Even the bridal trails?" I ask
"Yea" replies runner buddy. "That's where we were headed but we turned around..."
"Ok" I reply.." I'll check it out...thanks!"

I press on 'cuz that's what I do...

I'm stubborn, i'm pig-headed, I rarely head warnings or listen to rules or advice.  I'm finally proud to admit that I'm an adventure junkie who CRAVES daily adrenaline "hits" ...and this junkie is CRAVING adventure particularly on this 39th year o' life.
The trails are...indeed...TRASHED.

Much more ice than I had anticipated.YAK TRAKs...in the car...would have been helpful, but don't feel like turning around now.

There are some "bare" spots along the sides and the occasional "dry patch" but I press on the down the hill and promise myself I will NOT SLIP.  If its possible for a long down hill to actually feel like an uphill, well ..it did!

I run...I tip toe..I slosh...I crush leaves and greenery under the frozen snow as I weave down the trail through the side trenches and back up on the trail through the "safe" patches.

I approach bridges which actually have the perfect layer of powder to allow me to safely traverse their crossing.

I run down cedar creek...the nastiest hill in the park...just because....why the heck not? Its already nasty out here...might as well make the most of the nastiness!

After about three years of descending this atrocity, I  FINALLY get to the bottom, where I know a beautiful creek awaits me.  I arrive ...alone..the air is still...the sun glistens off both the water and the snow patched earth that surrounds it.  The water trickles..all is still ..for a moment.

I turn to begin my ascent back UP the atrocity. I seek out patches of gravel and rock to secure my footing.  It is so steep at one point I feel as though i'm running for the very first time in my life..
.
I push myself up the atrocity of a hill that I've pushed up countless times in the past while training for the countless adventures I've signed myself up for throughout my life.

I mostly train for "life" now ...but I still run and train with that urgency ...like i'm being chased or maybe I'm chasing something?
What can I still be chasing, haven't i accomplished enough?

Countless adventure races, marathons, trail runs, marriage, love, incredible friends, amazing family, beautiful NC life, various academic degrees, PA school, a job in rural medicine where i'm reminded how simple life really can be...if I would let it.

I continue to slosh around the trails and watch as the sun peaks through the trails and mist lifts off the water.
I am a DAMN LUCKY GAL to feast my eyes on such visions that mother nature awards us.
And I would be DAMN LUCKY to see even more...if I would FUEL myself more adequately.

I continue to struggle to "fuel" myself every.damn.day. But the "fuel" various on a daily basis...sometimes its adequate caloric intake..sometimes it adequate nature-esque intake...sometimes its adequate artistic output....sometimes its adequate human connection...sometimes its adequate patient care...sometime its adequate care of the loves of my life.

Sometimes i wish I could be content with being INADEQUATE....

But yet...I still run...because it always feels so damn good no matter how horrible it starts out.

And I continue to operate under the notion of "perpetual discontent". I find an ironic satisfaction in this as I continue to“feed the beast” of constant motion and achievement and realize I may never be completely satisfied with my achievements.

Remember that "ball pit" that we all used to romp around in as kids? Well...that's where the artist in me is currently "romping". She is trying to stay afloat, but finds herself being buried under"balls" (tee hee) of chief complaints, history of present illness, medication refills, chronic illness, smoking cessation counseling, depression and anxiety counseling, dizziness and lightheartedness, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, coding, billing, and at the end of the day, just trying to make someone laugh or remind someone that they are loved. 

And while the artist struggles to stay afloat, sometimes she goes under......
BUT....every now and again...SHE POPS UP OUTTA NOWHERE and creates something "adequate". 

I survived today's romp in the sloshy, icey, muddy trails, despite the warning to turn back.

I'm glad I ignore those warnings.  I can never turn back, I thrive in the face of adversity...that's when the artist can create the most. 

And while I reflect on these 39 years, I recall a piece I wrote  4 years ago...my personal statement for PA school...the piece that got me into the "ball pit" in the first place. I attach it here if you have a few more min to waste.... :) 

And thank you for wasting your precious minutes to read my words...I hope I have inspired or encouraged the way you have most certainly inspired and encouraged me...and have given me a reason to "Pop up" from the ball pit we call LIFE...

AUGUST 2013

I once read a story in Runner's World magazine about a runner who had completed the grueling Leadville 100 mile run in Colorado, suffering barely a scratch.  A few weeks later while running through his neighborhood, he tripped on a decorative rock, and broke 3 ribs.  Life's wounds are inevitable, and we are all recovering from something, whether it is from wounds of the day, week or many years ago. 

Two years ago I ran to the top of Mt. Mitchell for the annual 40 mile winter challenge.  I thought that when I reached the summit, I could hurl all of my wounds from the mountaintop.  But when I reached the top, there was nothing I wanted to throw.  Through the many months of arduous training leading up to this point, I had finally realized how valuable these wounds were.  I discovered that wounds are not an anchor, but the catalyst that will help me prevail in the face of adversity.  I realized that scars are a precious reminder of our extraordinary ability to recover. My recovery occurs along the many miles of trails I run or ride, because the more my legs spin, the less my mind does.  I recover every time I step onto my yoga mat, and am reminded of the restorative powers of stillness and breath. 

I am also fortunate to have found someone to join hands with as we navigate the joys and heartache of life.  Our marriage is by no means perfect. We are outnumbered by dogs in the house and weeds in the yard.  We are-over budget, over-tired, and at times, under-appreciative of one another.  We are terribly flawed individuals who make a magnificently flawed pair.  But when one of us trips along the trail, the other is there to lift them off the ground.

In my 34 years of existence, I have come to appreciate the exquisite combination of thrills and tragedies that life has to offer.  Without fully appreciating each in their own right, you cannot fully live.  I believe my experiences will be instrumental as I help others to recover from their wounds.  I may not know what it is to live with chronic illness or suffer from a debilitating disease.  But I know what it is to spend almost a lifetime recovering.  I know what it feels like to be faced with an insurmountable task. I know what it is to be entirely broken down, yet somehow muster an ounce of courage to push through the pain, freezing temperatures or high speed winds, to summit a peak.  And I know how important it is to be patient as you allow yourself to recover one mile, one day, one step at a time.

“Life is what happens as you live with the wounds.  Life is not a matter of getting the wounds out of the way so that you can finally live.  Wounds are never permanently erased.  We are fragile beings, and some days we break all over again.”  Geneen Roth