Nostalgia and Moving Forward in a New Way

 Lately I've been have been really missing my days of running Chimera Travel full time. In part, it's the actual travel aspect. I haven't traveled overseas since 2018 (!), first because of pandemic, then because of IVF, and I miss it. My "on this day in.. " reminders on various social media show that this time seven years ago I was in Kenya doing things like a seeing baby orphan elephant feeding at the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust and taking a sunrise hot air balloon ride over the Masai Mara. Nine years ago today, I was in Marrakech and surrounding area, enjoying the most delicious Moroccan food with a backdrop of the Atlas Mountains. I am sure that seeing photos from these trips day after day for a couple of weeks isn't helping my nostalgia. But it's not just the travel. It's running a business itself. It's having autonomy over everything from my schedule to the marketing and promotion of the company to the target audience to the core values of the company. It's getting to go to conferences and workshops to immerse myself in topic-specific education, both as an attendee and as a presenter. It's sitting on boards of directors where I met others in these industries, some of who became lifelong friends. And like the "on this day" photos, this is also being spurred on by reminders of those experiences. I've been spending a lot of time, either in person or conversation, with people who have this (extremely well-earned!) autonomy - my parents are now both retired and two of my four siblings run their own businesses. I also recently had coffee with a friend that I know from my entrepreneur/coworking days who also works in travel. We talked all about the travel industry, building our businesses, going to conferences and events, traveling to get immersion in different locations. During that conversation, I felt an energy, that type of hum you get when something is lighting you up, that I have't felt in a while. 

And yet, I don't really want to go back to running my travel business full time anymore. Maybe if, in a perfect world,  I knew I'd have plenty of clients and could make enough money to help pay the bills and support my household, and I knew I could grow the company to be exactly what I want, that might be the case. But I spent years trying to do that and it didn't exactly work out as I hoped. And also, I'm going through a sixth round of IVF. The hope, the whole point of that, is that this time next year we will have an infant. And that doesn't exactly mesh with traveling around the globe for conferences, African Safaris with hot air balloon rides. Which is completely ok because this is the stage of life I'm at - I would gladly put all that travel on hiatus to finally have our child. 

Still, that low level hum of "something" has persisted in the background. I've sat with it, contemplated it, journaled through it, used the tools and skillsets I'm developing in the To Be Magnetic work I'm doing, and what I'm coming to realize that "something" is exactly what it is at this moment. It's the feeling that I'm on the precipice of a change, of life moving forward somehow, but without any details. It could be my IVF cycle - maybe this will finally be the one that work. It could be something related to work or travel or yoga. It could be a new connection or community activity. Or it could be something internal. I've been doing a lot of work, with all of the methods I've mentioned above, plus meditation, yoga, therapy. I've reconnected with and am exploring areas of life that interest and intrigue me, working to get back to my truly authentic self.  Maybe the something is simply  that (which is not at all simple really).  Maybe it's the the movement back towards a me that feels authentic at this age and in this stage of my life. 

Interestingly, I find that I'm ok with not fully knowing yet. Of course it feels great to have an "ah-ha" moment, where you realize exactly what your next step, plan, goal, action, etc is. What I've realized through the work I've been doing, though, is that I've constantly been on the chase - always looking for what's next. And partly, that's my innate personality. I'm not someone who's great with status quo, I get bored easily, and I literally was a professional planner for years, so I enjoy having some semblance of a known path forward. But that has also at times made me feel almost frantic in the pursuit. There's something freeing about releasing a bit of that control, and sitting back to see what happens. To be clear, this is not a "you're exactly where you're supposed to be" type of message. I don't think the universe/creator/source/God was sitting there saying "let's put her through the heartbreak of five failed rounds of IVF and then she'll be exactly where she needs to be." Sometimes, shitty things just happen, and there's nothing more you could have done to make them not happen. It is also not a "the universe will just make it happen, you don't have to do anything."  Using the the IVF example again, I'm not going to have an immaculate conception. So far, the most in depth scientific/medical protocols have not managed to help me get pregnant. I'm certainly not going to just sit back and think "the universe will take care of this". I'm going to do every single thing my fertility care team tells me to do - all of the medications and shots and appointments and ultrasounds and everything else I can to give us the best chance.  What I mean is that I'm not feeling the urge to frantically chase "the next thing".  I can feel that something is coming. I am going to do the work in the areas of life that I'm committed to, towards the goals that I'm committed to. I'm also going to continue to do the internal work and to stay committed to getting back to my most authentic self.  But I'm not going to force it. I've spent so much time in my life desperately trying to make something happen, almost for the sake of making something happen. I often felt like a dog chasing its tail, constantly pursing things that clearly weren't showing signs of happening - not because I needed to try harder, but because maybe all along they just weren't going to happen in the way I was trying to make them happen. And I think if I'd really stopped to listen to my intuition, to my intrinsic knowledge, my authentic self, I would have been able to see that. Or perhaps, if I'd approached it from this space, things would have turned out differently. Either way, the frantic chase approach was not one that worked in the end. 

This time, I am allowing myself that space, that grace to listen to myself and the universe. I've been consistently more drawn to gentleness, slowing down, inward focus, finding quiet strength. There's a sense of ease in it - not in that it's easy, but in that it's not forced - and that feels beautiful, and like exactly what I need right now. 

So I'll look at the travel photos with fondness and nostalgia. I'll surely eventually plan some new travel (like the trip we took to Maine last year that was a balm for my soul). I'll remember the he excitement of running my business, and I'll continue to help the travel clients I have, and to teach the yoga classes that I enjoy teaching. I'll use the reminder of autonomy, how freeing it felt, when I'm about to commit to something  because I feel like I *should*,, or from a place of hustle/trying to hard, instead of because it feels intrinsically right, to determine if it's worth relinquishing more of that autonomy. I'll use all of these as guides. And then I'll step back and enjoy the feeling of "something", and  I'll allow my curiosity to delight in wondering what it might be, without the pressure to make it be one in particular, or to make it be now. 

A New Diagnosis & Old Ghosts

This morning, I felt like writing a post on here. If I'm honest (which I always try to be), this is the first time in a long time that I've really had the desire to blog. I've written my end of the year posts each year because it feels right to document the previous 12 months, and I imagine that someday I'll look back and be glad I did so.  But it's been ages since I truly felt inspired to post here. This morning, though, I did. And it feels really good to have that spark again, even if it doesn't last much past today. For years, I had a constant flow of inspiration. But then I started working a full time job and gave up running Chimera full time, had less time for advocacy, and just overall didn't feel super inspired. Also, ironically, I've felt more mentally stable in the past few years than I have in all of my adult life, and since my primary focus on this blog was my life with mental illness, my feeling more mentally healthy has led to less blogging. But I'll absolutely take it, hands down. 

Though I have been having a lot of "run away train brain" that feels like one long hypomanic cycle lately (thanks, IVF meds!), this morning's inspiration was due not to my cyclothymia or anxiety, but to another condition. Back in December, I started getting a huge uptick in migraine attacks. I used to have one about once a quarter, and I began having one or more a week. They lasted several days at a stretch, so I was rarely more than a few days without an attack. It was terrible. For anyone living with chronic migraine that experiences this on a regular basis, you are incredible for dealing with it, truly. What I noticed around the same time was that I was getting an increase in upper GI symptoms alongside my migraine attacks. At first, I just thought it was a change to migraine prodrome. I've always gotten a bit of a sour stomach before the major symptoms of a migraine attack hit, but this past year, I began instead getting indigestion. It felt like someone was inside of my stomach/diaphragm area forcing air up into my esophagus. I felt like I constantly had to burp, which was lovely. In December, with the increase in migraine attacks, it became more pronounced. Then I had a horrific migraine attack over New Year's Eve and Day. 

Pause: if you don't want to hear about GI symptoms/vomiting now is the time to stop reading... 

I started feeling the indigestion/air in my upper GI middle of the night Saturday night (the night going into New Year's Eve day). It felt like I needed to throw it up, and I did a tiny bit, but it continued to feel like I had food and air stuck in my stomach area. It continued through the next morning when the full fledged migraine attack symptoms hit - extreme dizziness and disorientation, head pain, nausea. I was completely horizontal. I couldn't eat anything or even keep down water, so it made no sense to me that I was still feeling like I had food stuck in my stomach. Finally, at around 2PM, when I hadn't eaten for almost 20 hours, I was able to vomit up all of the food from dinner the night before, which I'd had around 5PM. I am not a GI expert, but I know that my stomach should have digested the previous night's dinner by 2PM the following day, and that in itself was a bit concerning, but I figured it was all part of the migraine attack. The migraine symptoms hung on until late the following day, but at least I didn't feel like I had food and air stuck in my stomach and esophagus, and I was no longer vomiting up water. 

But, the upper GI issue never completely went away. The whole first week of January I could barely eat. I'd feel tons of pressure and air at my diaphragm/esophagus area. I assumed I was just taking an extra long time to recover from the migraine attack. It continued to the following week. I had already gotten an appointment with a neurologist - or rather scheduled one, as I couldn't get one until March so I still haven't been. After two weeks of barely being able to eat, and no other migraine symptoms, I decided I also needed to see a GI doctor. Despite having IBS, it's been a while since I've been to one, other than an obligatory pre-colonoscopy consult a few years back. I was actually able to get into someone a couple of weeks ago, and I got diagnosed with gastroparesis. Unfortunately,  all of the tests they can do to figure out exactly what's specifically going on - i.e. what might be causing it, etc - they cannot do right now. They all have some sort of radiation or require anesthesia which I obviously can't have during this cycle of IVF. So I got an answer, which I'm grateful for, but still left with a lot of questions. 

The past few weeks I've been trying to be mindful of the GI doctor's dietary suggestions - be careful of fats, watch acids, increase protein, eat small meals more frequently. There are also a ton of dietary resources out there gastroporesis, and all of them seem awful - not the quality of the resources, but the dietary modifications they suggest (essentially they say I can eat white carbs, which is exactly the opposite of my IBS dietary needs, and mashed up foods).  Add in being a vegetarian, having to take into account dietary suggestions for IC and IBS as well, and going through IVF, in which I'm trying to makes sure I get all the proper nutrients and vitamins and everything else, it's been tricky. So I've been trying to figure out the best lived experience balance. I do not mash up everything baby food style. I do try to limit fats and watch acids. I try foods out that I know are healthy and important for me as a vegetarian trying to get pregnant. I see how they feel and if they feel ok, I continue with them. If they don't, I try to find substitutes that offer similar benefits. I eat smaller portions and try to eat more frequently, although I often feel so bad after eating even just a small portion that I can't force myself to eat until the next meal. 

In the past month and a half, I've lost quite a bit of weight. I won't lie, at first I wasn't bothered by it, because, before the diagnosis, I thought things would just go back to normal once I got back to usual eating patterns. But the weight loss has continued. It's not felt super alarming, but I have noticed clothes fitting looser and looser. Still, it didn't feel like anything drastic, and I figured it would likely level out at some point, especially as I've been trying to push myself to eat a little bit more when I can. But this morning, I looked in the mirror, and I was alarmed. I had been doing a light workout, so had on a top in which I could see my shoulders and arms (something I don't see in the mirror a lot in winter). I felt like I looked borderline sick. Not my face so much, but my arms and shoulders were skinny and almost angular in a way that they rarely are. I'm an 'athletic build" by nature.  But I had a sudden flashback to my early 20s, photos of me skin and bones, when I suffered from both severe IBS bouts and disordered eating. Back then I lost about 20 lbs between the two, and I'd only been a little over 100 lbs to begin with. I remember years later seeing pictures from that time and thinking "how could I have not realized how sick I was?" Of course, that is the nature of disordered eating, and why it's disordered - because the brain doesn't even necessarily see the weight loss, and even it does, it doesn't recognize it for what it is. 

Luckily, this time I'm in a significantly better place mentally. I am no where near as thin as I was back then - in fact, I'm probably close to the weight I was naturally before the disordered eating and IBS bouts started. But seeing my shoulders and arms look skinny,  less muscular, more angular my brain sent off warning flags that I need to pay more attention to the weight loss. I'm grateful that this time around, nearly 20 years later, the semi-rapid weight loss is something I recognize as concerning, and not something to be celebrated. I know that it's something I need to keep an eye on, and that I have to work hard to make sure that even if I can't eat a lot, I'm getting in the proper vitamins and nutrients, proteins and healthy fats, to the degree that I can without the fats causing extreme discomfort. It will always be a tricky balance for me to keep an eye on my actual weight (as in numbers on a scale), because I know that doing so was a major obsession during the disordered eating years. Since being in ED recovery, I've rarely weighed myself unless obligated to do so at a doctor's office or when required to do so after egg retrieval to make sure I wasn't experiencing OHSS. But I may need to find a temporary truce with the scale, to monitor my weight loss and make sure it's not too rapid or intense. (Yes, I can see how clothes are fitting, but I've been into more comfortable, slightly looser clothes lately, and that makes it tougher to gauge). I'm extremely grateful to be in a place where I feel I can do this. 

This gastroparesis diagnosis has been a difficult one. Moreso than most of my other diagnoses. It came at an extremely unfortunate time (though really there's no good time), with my having recently started a new round of IVF. It's bringing up old ghosts from a time in my life in which I was the least mentally healthy version of me, and even though I'm seeing them from the other side, recognizing the ghosts for what they are, remembering the place I was once in can be extremely emotional. I'm grateful for the knowledge and perspective I have now, for the many tools I have in my mental health toolbox, for the support of those closest to me, and for all of the resources I have through my advocacy efforts, to learn and understand this diagnosis better. 

And while I'm not generally a "look at the silver lining" type of person, because I think it tends to diminish someone's difficult experience, this morning's glance in the mirror and subsequent shock inspired me not only to double down on my efforts to stay as healthy as I can with this condition, but to blog about it as well. And the blogging itself - that's a part of my history that actually feels good to be revisiting, even if the cause for doing so, not so much. 

2024 Year in Review

 Welcome to my once-a-year blog! Ha! I’ve not had the opportunity, or to be honest the inspiration, to blog much lately. I’ve been in an in-between phase with, well, life basically, and as someone who is really driven to write by passion and what I’m feeling immersed in at the moment, the in-between stage proves to be a not super effective muse. Additionally, until about September, I was partaking in weekly Storyworth responses, which scratched the writing itch, so to speak (if you’re not familiar with Storyworth, it’s pretty cool - check it out here. I promise this isn’t sponsored). Still, this annual tradition of a “Year in Review” post is something I enjoy. Not only is it a nice way to wrap up the year, it’s good for perspective. In some instances, it helps to remind me of the positive things that happened throughout the year, which can be important if I’m struggling in other areas. In other cases, it helps me to give myself a little space, ease, and grace, reminding me of some of the really challenging and difficult moments I’ve gotten through, which can help me better process what I’m feeling and be a little less hard on myself if everything hasn’t gone exactly as I’d hoped. 

The below highlights are in no real particular order, other than trying to start on a positive note. Also, I think it’s important to mention here that there were so many little moments that might not make the blog post, but are everything in the day to day - laughs with friends, support from loved ones, family traditions, Brian and I cracking ourselves up with the life stories we make up about Grace as if she were a human, those types of things. The big moments are important for what they are of course, but without these seemingly little moments in everyday life, the time in between the big moments - which is most of life, really - would be way less meaningful and enjoyable. 

House Guests

In February 2023, our good friend from Colorado came out to the area and stayed with us for about nine days. He was our first overnight house guest in this house, despite us having lived here for almost two years at that point, and it was great to have him here. It was a super low key visit, which is exactly what we all wanted. We ordered take out, frequented our favorite local coffee shop, went to get Mr. Softee (an ice cream stand) in our pajamas, which everyone knows is really the only appropriate way to go to Mr. Softee. He and my husband took some day trips (I had to work), and really, just got to spend quality time together. There was a ton of great convo, silly antics, and laughs, which is exactly what spending time with those close to you should be. 

The weekend before Fourth of July, couple friends of ours who had been living in Massachusetts for the past couple of years (but originally from this general area) came to visit. We’re all big into games, so we played some board games, went to the game store, went to a local arcade. We had a pool day at our house, nice meals out and good take out, and just got to enjoy catching up in person and all spending time together. It was so nice to get to spend the holiday weekend in a fun and relaxed way with close friends. No pressure for big parties or gatherings, late nights out, anything extravagant, which is exactly my kind of holiday weekend! 

Vacation/Travel

After three plus years of staying mostly local, doing staycation and the occasional weekend road trip, we took TWO vacations this year! The first was our trip to Maine in May. It’s the only state on the East Coast that I hadn't been to, and also one of the US States I’ve most wanted to visit. It exceeded expectations. We rented a VRBO on the Schoodic peninsula, and it was perfect. Completely not touristy, surrounded by nature, quintessential Maine. We ventured around the Schoodic, into Acadia National Park, walked around Bar Harbor, found our favorite local spots to eat in the small nearby town of Winter Harbor, explored the cute town of Ellsworth where we had Sri Lankan food for the first time, visited some historical sites, went out into Bangor for an afternoon. On the way up, we also got to see some friends from Maine that we haven’t seen since pre-pandemic, which was so much fun. Everything about the trip was fantastic. It gave Brian and I time to really connect without the day to day obligations of work and home and groceries and chores and all of those normal life things that tend to fill up the time without you even realizing it. For me, my pull to nature increased tenfold. I was drawn toward the idea of rewilding,and it’s had some lasting impact on my life - I’ve been diving into connecting with the elements, the lunar cycle, seasonality, and more, and I love exploring this. 

The second trip was to Denver for the wedding of my friend Bri (also a Brian but that’s confusing and I’ve always called him Bri), who is one of my absolute best friends and favorite people on this planet. We also got to visit the first house guest friend mentioned above and his family, who live in the Denver area as well.  The flight to Denver was our first flight since 2018!! In 2019 our vacation was a road trip to New England, and then 2020 happened and we know how that played out. We hadn’t felt comfortable being on a plane until quite recently. Plus with all of the IVF stuff over the past few years (more on that to come) we really couldn’t be a plane ride away from the fertility clinic. But we got our Covid boosters and I masked up and we went to Denver and it was amazing! I forgot how much I loved the mountains and the area in general. It was wonderful to see everyone, and my happiness level at being able to share in my friend’s wedding is something that still nearly chokes me up as I write this. 

Health Stuff

Super descriptive writer-y subheading, right? Some of this isn’t mine to share, and so I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say there were multiple scares we were not expecting in both my nuclear and extended family, and they were some doozies. Everyone is on the mend-ish, but whew. 

As for me, I learned that I have trauma-induced arthritis in my left big toe (high five for my 3rd type of arthritis!). I've been having pretty severe pain in my toe, to the point that I can’t really bend it since, February of 2022 (yep, not this year, last year!). I’ve gone to numerous doctors during that time, and it wasn’t until I went to a reconstructive orthopedist in November that anyone confirmed that I had, at some point, broken my big toe. It’s healed now, but in the meantime, because of how it healed, I developed what he called trauma-triggered arthritis in the knuckle of my big toe. He did another cortisone injection (the podiatrist did one last year that didn’t work at all). If the injection doesn’t work, he said the only other option would be to fuse the knuckle of my big toe. This is obviously not ideal, and I’m going to do everything I can to prevent this, which I’ll admit probably means just dealing with the pain until it gets bad enough that I can’t. I go back on January 4th for a check up. I was supposed to go back last week, but got hit with a terrible migraine attack. 

Which brings me to, migraine attacks. I’ve had migraine for years - since I was a teenager. The frequency ebbs and flows, but it’s rarely more than once a month. About 12 years ago, I had episodes where the left side of my face and my left arm would get weak and heavy with the flare. I got increased dizziness and disorientation, even moreso than usual. I went to numerous doctors including a neurologist. I had a brain MRI, bloodwork, EKG, the works. They found nothing. It’s thought that I likely experience a “mild” form of hemiplegic migraine. I say mild because hemiplegic migraine can mimic a stroke, with symptoms like slurred speech, and mine don’t get quite that intense, at least so far. But it’s far from mild feeling when it’s occurring. I seem to get them in clusters of time, and haven’t had one for years. This month though, my migraine attack frequency has increased, among them an attack that feels like the hemiplegic type. In addition the presentation of the attacks has changed a bit. I’m getting increasing GI symptoms during and after the attack, and while previously I’d usually have some indicator a few days before, like a mild “sour stomach", they’ve been hitting out of almost nowhere. I’ll have what feels like a mild sinus headache, and then bam, searing pain that moves to just over my left eye and radiates down my face, disorientation and dizziness, weakness, nausea, vision trouble, light sensitivities (which I also previously never had) all within a matter of minutes, followed by GI pain and cramping. I have an appointment with my GP on Friday so we’ll see how that goes - it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a headache specialist and I have an HMO so need a referral anyway, which means GP is the first stop. I’ll likely not get answers on Friday, but fingers crossed I can get guidance on next steps. 

An End of a Yoga Era

Ok, so maybe four years doesn’t constitute an era, but it kind of feels like it. Shortly after I got my Yoga Teacher certification, I began a yoga benefit class. It was sponsored by my mom’s firm, and it benefited the organization Kids’ Chance of NJ (great organization, check them out!). It was a weekly all-levels flow class held at my mom’s firm on Tuesday evenings. When the pandemic hit, we moved it virtual, and it’s been virtual ever since. At the end of this month, my mom is retiring (yay, congrats!!) and as she’s been essentially our liaison with both the firm and the organization, the partnership with Kids’ Chance will come to an end. Both the firm and the organization have been amazing partners. The class was my first regular yoga class after graduating YTT, and I’m so grateful and honored that they trusted me to begin this benefit yoga program, and for everyone that participated and worked to make it happen/sustain it. Over the past four plus years, we’ve been able to practice yoga together (or virtually together) and raise money for a wonderful organization, and that means so much to me. I held my last official Yoga to Benefit Kids’ Chance earlier in the month. I’ll still continue to teach my Tuesday yoga class, but it’s in an in-between stage right now. I’m looking into other potential local organizations to partner with, and also just taking the opportunity to step back and see what the best path might be for this class moving forward. Shameless self plug, I’ll have my January schedule up soon, and you can sign up for classes here (they’re still all virtual). 

Self Worth & Healing Work 

This could probably just have a permanent place of honor in my year end review posts. I’m continually working on my self worth and my own healing. This year though, I took a new step. I was introduced by someone close to me to a program called To Be Magnetic (again, not sponsored, just giving acknowledgement where it’s due). I’ll be transparent in saying that it took me a while to sign up, because the word “manifestation” in the description got me. The word brings to mind, as it likely does for many, lots of toxic positivity vibes. But what this program is really about is healing. It’s getting back to your authentic self, the self you’d be without all of the societal programming and everyone else’s “shoulds”, to who you truly are at your core- something I’ve been struggling with for quite a while.  It’s about understanding where you’re blocking yourself, essentially getting in your own way, and where you’re acting from feelings like hurt and shame and fear and low self worth, instead of your authentic self. I recognize a lot of crossover between the TBM work and my work with my therapist, who I’ve been going to for over 15 years, and it all really feels so intrinsically “right”, for lack of a better word. In December, they had a 6-week challenge that I just completed, and I’m starting to notice subtle shifts. That’s the thing that I actually really love about this program. It’s not telling you to drop everything and quit the job that pays your bills and puts food on the table without a plan.  It’s all about small changes within the self and how we interact in the world that add up to bigger changes over time. I should add here, because this was also a big concern for me before signing up, that the program acknowledges things like systemic oppression, racism, discrimination, and so many other factors that often get ignored due to privilege. It’s not claiming that you can overcome things like these by “thinking positively” - there’s actually no “thinking positively” involved at all. 

The reason I’m going on and on about this program is that it has given me something that I feel I can do daily or semi-daily in which I’m actively making progress in my self worth and in feeling authentically like myself. As much as I love my therapy sessions, I often feel like I’m in a rut in between them. Anyone that knows me knows that I’m great at the big picture/long range dream, and I’m good at getting organized and doing the things that I have to do daily. It’s that middle ground, that figuring out what I have to do daily, that is tricky for me. And this gives me guidance. I’m excited to see how I continue to grow as I continue this program into 2024. 

IVF

If you’ve made it this far, you’re probably surprised that this has yet to be mentioned. This past year or so, we have been in kind of a holding pattern. We ran into some unexpected issues this time last year and had to address those before knowing how we could continue. A few weeks ago, we finally got cleared to move forward. We had a telehealth visit with our RE about next steps. We just have to do our annual blood work since it’s been over a year since we did it and assuming nothing out of the ordinary - which is a big assumption in this process because it feels like there’s always something tripping us up -  we’ll be able to move forward and I can start my prep. I’m cautiously hopeful. At this point in the journey, thinking “here we go I’ll be pregnant in no time” would be naive and quite likely set me up for disappointment. But I do have some hope. Part of it’s my knowledge of the process, part of it’s my nature. Once we (fingers crossed) get past the bloodwork part, we’ll be at a point we have never gotten to before, and that alone feels hopeful. We have a great support network, between family and friends and loved ones, and I’m part of an infertility support group that has helped me get through this past year of limbo. I’ve put this update last because I wanted to end on this note. While I try not to let infertility define me/us/life, it has been the elephant in the room for the past few years. While obviously I’d love to have more definitive, overtly exciting news on this front, I’ll take the cautious hopefulness where I can get this. 

I’m moving into 2024 with the idea of slow and steady. I spent years in my 20s and 30s making massive changes and actions, everything feeling larger than life. I was super busy, always on the go, involved in everything. And at the time, I think that’s what I needed. It helped to get me here. But now, in my (gulp) mid-40s, that’s not what I’m craving, and I don’t think it’s what I need. That doesn’t mean I want to just sit on the couch with a book for days (ok, sometimes I do), but it means I’m giving myself more space, softness, ease, and grace (not to be confused with Grace, already quite present!). I recognize that instead of bold and overt, I want to cultivate a quiet confidence and self-worth. Rather than making huge leaps, I’m loving seeing steady progress - though obviously in some things, like fertility treatment, you’re going for the huge leaps aka it working, since that’s the whole point. I still love exploring and discovering, and don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy an occasional adrenaline rush. But what I’m more and more drawn to is discovering the beauty, harmony, and magic in life, in people, in the universe. I’m looking forward to approaching 2024 through this new lens, and seeing where it takes me. 

Finding A Way To Be Both

It feels like ages since I've posted here, but I had the urge to write, and so I decided to do so. If you follow me on social media at all, you've probably seen me post about the internal tug of war I've been feeling between the younger version of myself and the this older version of myself that hasn't quite felt, well, like myself. It's been particularly challenging because I'm at a stage of life that most people encounter at a younger age, that society slates for younger people. While many friends my age have teenagers and have been in their marriages and careers for 20 years, I've been in this version of my career for two years, my husband and I have been married for five and a half years, and I'm trying to become a first time parent at 43 years old (to be clear, 43 wasn't the goal age, we've been trying since I was 38, shortly after we got married). On top of that, because so many shifts in my life have happened during covid times, which has already been a bit surreal-feeling to begin with, I've just felt like I'm in a weird place. The world and life was already in a situation many of us had never experienced before, and in the middle of that I started a new career, bought a house and moved back to the NJ suburbs, and started fertility treatment. This new version of me hasn't felt so much like a transition, but almost like someone closed the imaginary curtain in front of younger me and pulled up the curtain on "approaching mid-40s, suburban homeowner, corporate employee, infertility me and said "ok this is who you are now." Which I realize sounds ridiculous, since - with the exception of getting laid off and having to look for a new job which turned into a new career path - these were all things I actively moved towards (not that I moved towards infertility actively, but I did move towards having a child actively). Nor was any of this a sudden change. I began transitioning out of running my business full time years ago, when I slowly started adding up hours in my then part-time job. We knew that we were going to want to move into a single family home with a yard and more space when we started trying for a family, and we also planned to move back to NJ because my parents and my mother-in-law live here. And we've known since before we got married that we were going to start trying to conceive shortly after. None of these changes were a total shock. And yet I think it's the gradualness that's getting me. It feels like I should have slowly gotten used to this new version of me along the way, but I somehow I'm still surprised that I find myself here. 

I think one of the aspects that I've been struggling with the most is the idea of having to choose to be one of these two versions of myself. I can either be the young, fun, energetic, entrepreneur version of myself, or I can be the corporate employee, middle aged, infertility-battling, suburban home owner that's exhausted before 9PM version of myself, and never the two shall meet. But the thing is, I don't really want to fall into either of these two stereotypical categories. I don't want to be some young, single, partying version of me (or even some young married partying version of me). I appreciate the experience and wisdom that's come with having lived 43 years on this planet.  I have a spouse/life partner that I love. My house has gorgeous 100 plus year old charm, and and we have a backyard for  Grace (dog) and a pool. Growing up, having an in-ground pool was my marker for someone had "made it", so this feels like next level adulthood to me. And despite this seeming mid-life identity crisis, I'm actually at the healthiest point mentally that I've been in my adult life. I wouldn't change that for all the youth and excitement in the world. I wouldn't want to change any of this, in fact. At the same time, the other day I looked at what I was wearing to the work for one of my "every other week office days", and I thought "I look like a conventional middle-aged corporate-working soccer mom." And other than the mom part, I've never aspired to be any of this. I've never wanted to look like I stepped out of a Talbots catalog, going to my cubicle job in corporate America, and have my big excitement of the week be that Costco carried some new brand of something I enjoy. As much as young, single, partying me isn't me anymore, neither is this fully me. 

So I've been working with the idea that I can be both. Not both as in "I go out partying and then show up at the my corporate job in my talbots-like outfit the next day. But that I don't have to choose to be "old" or "young" (in quotes because what's old or young has drastically changed as I've aged), to be conventional  or out of the box. To be fun or responsible. I can pull in the aspects of each stage of my life that still feel like me now, and I can leave the rest. I can be in this place of transition without having to teleport from one to the other suddenly and never look back. I love my job, actually. I'll probably always miss being an entrepreneur, but I love my job and I work for a great company. I've always liked transportation and logistics, and I can see myself growing through a career here. I have the advantage of a hybrid work schedule which at the moment is really primarily work from home with an office day every other week or so, and that gives me a lot more flexibility and freedom than I ever thought I'd have in a traditional job. I can do this and still teach yoga and still have some travel clients that I work with nights and weekends. And to be honest, especially with the expenses of fertility treatment, knowing I'm being paid a certain amount every two weeks regardless of whether it's been super busy or super slow is game changing. I can also generally log off when I'm done and not have to worry much about it until I log in again, which is drastically different from entrepreneurship (in which I was nearly always "logged on" even if just in my head), and I do appreciate the benefit of this. 

This ability to be both extends into other areas as well. My style has changed, but I can still honor the uniqueness, the quirkiness, the me-ness in my style choices - I can evolve my look without having to suddenly look in the mirror and not recognize myself. I don't have to dress a certain way (other than situationally appropriate) just because I am in my 40s and own a home in the suburbs. I can be these things and also have a funky style that feels like me, but maybe not exactly like 20s, self-employed, spending my weekends at bars until midnight version of me. I can be responsible and run errands and do yard work and clean the house, and also have fun. Maybe fun has morphed over time. Maybe now it's not (even without it being covid times) happy hour three times a week or big festivals on the weekend or eight hour long concert tailgates. Maybe it's trying new activities - I'd like to try both rock climbing (at a gym) and disc golf. I'd like to get back on my bike and to do more hiking and kayaking and try stand up paddle boarding again. Fun can be hosting friends and family for cookouts and pool time in the back yard.  In a week, my husband and I are taking our first destination vacation in over three years (we did a staycation last summer) and we're heading up to a rental home in Maine. We plan to hike and do outdoorsy things, explore the area, and just enjoy the freedom that comes from being on vacation. I've always enjoyed these types of activities, but they are now at the top of the list when I think of doing something fun or enjoyable, instead of mixed in with all of the other activities I enjoyed when I was in my 20s and even early-to-mid 30s. 

This both-ness is still a work in progress. Some days I am so grateful for my "older" stage of life, and other days I miss the energy and passion and excitement I had 10 or 15 years ago. But I think that's all part of it. Just like I wouldn't expect to one day wake up with a full head of gray hair when the day before it was all brown, I don't expect that there's this magic moment that I'll seamlessly slip from "young" to "old" and think "yes, this is exactly who I am now".  To me, the both-ness is finding this point of equilibrium that I can come back to. Finding this new version of me that lies somewhere in the in-between, that's somewhere in process, in transition. This version of me is somewhere in the middle, which is, when you think about it, exactly what middle age is (and before you say I'm not middle aged, I'm 43, which means that double my age is over the average life expectancy, so I am, quite literally, middle aged). As a society, we tend to think of middle age as that time when men get a new red sports car and women get bad dye jobs, both trying to recapture their youth when actually it makes them just look older than they are. And maybe for some people that is the case. But middle age is actually be this really unique space, where we get to actively participate in our aging, our rediscovery of ourselves, our growth. We have the opportunity to take what we still want to gather from our younger years, and transform it into a version that makes sense for today. I see this in the way that my passion has evolved. I may not be as "fiery" as I used to, but I'm also not so "all over the place".  Maybe now it's just a softer version, a quieter strength. In my younger years my passion was displayed on my sleeve for all the world to see. Now, I carry it more within me, as a guiding force, and I may have to dig a little deeper to find it or recognize it (the space I am, admittedly, currently in), but I know that it's still there, even if I struggle to access it sometimes. In this middle age stage of life, I have the benefit of wisdom and experience gained from having lived over four decades, and the curiosity to continue to want to explore life. I know my habits and patterns, even if I am not always the best at disrupting the less helpful ones.  I know, at the core, who I am and who I'm not, even when how that's portrayed in daily life feels a bit tricky to grasp at times. I may not know exactly where I'm going or how I'm going to get there, but I think that recognizing this is part of being at this stage. I know that no matter how many concrete plans I make, there's no guarantee that they're all going to happen as imagined (in fact, many of them probably won't). This is the stage of life in where I'm able to take everything that's been me and my life so far, and use it to rediscover myself now, and to guide myself going forward. And when I think about it, far from being the dreaded "midlife" stage that society likes to write off as "over the hill/one foot into retirement and old age", middle age is actually a pretty remarkable place to be. 

2022 Year in Review

This year was extremely difficult for me, for numerous reasons. In a world that’s gone back to “normal” while I haven’t, I feel left behind and out of touch. I realize that this is my choice, but when you truly feel like you’re doing the right thing for your situation and it leads to feeling forgotten and alone, it hurts. In a world full of friends and loved ones having babies and announcing pregnancies and me having had my fifth failed round of IVF in August, I feel both genuinely happy for them and also even more isolated - physically, mentally, emotionally - myself. I debated not writing this at all, because I felt like a lot of it was going to be me talking about my struggles that people have doubtless already heard about. But that’s part of life. Infertility is part of my life just like chronic illness, like my mental health conditions. It’s as much a part of my life as my hobbies and (pre-covid) travels and house and yoga classes and everything else… maybe even more so because it’s connected to my actual body, and it’s not something I can alter my part in, the way I altered travel plans or shifted my yoga classes online when the pandemic hit. I also know that, despite what an extremely discouraging year it was in some aspects, there was some good, and I do want to celebrate that. Not in a “look on the bright side” toxic positivity sort of way, but because I believe in the both/and. Life and humans are complex, and it’s completely legit to have simultaneously conflicting emotions and experiences. These posts also help me to look back over the years, and see the change and growth, to remember enjoyable experiences I maybe forgot about, and to see how I’ve grown through the challenges. 

IVF/Fertility Treatment

Note: there’s some decent detail about our fertility journey here. If you’d rather not read that, or if it may be triggering, please feel free to skip this section. 

Might as well address the 10 ton elephant in the room first. I went into January 2022 not 100 percent optimistic, but feeling decently. In late summer/fall of 2021, I’d done two rounds of IVF, with two different protocols. The second protocol wasn’t successful, but seemed to work better in that we did get more eggs and one embryo, even though ultimately that embryo wasn’t viable, so it seemed like we had our protocol moving forward. I was starting some additional supplements (on doctor’s orders) that were supposed to help egg quantity and quality, and I thought round three might be better. We did get more eggs, but only one embryo, and that wasn’t viable. Round four was abysmal in every way. I bruised badly, I barely stimmed, the retrieval triggered a migraine flare so that instead of getting a nice 20-minute anesthesia nap followed by a day relaxing watching cheesy hallmark movies, I went under anesthesia feeling like my throat was closing up, and the rest of the day was spent horizontal because I vomited if I was in any other position. After round four, we took a little break, and did a nice staycation (see later points). We rejuvenated ourselves and decided to go in for round five. Despite all of the above, I had hope for round five. They adjusted my protocol slightly. I saw the results. It wasn’t the most eggs I’ve gotten but definitely the best follicles. All of the eggs fertilized and two - TWO!, which was unheard of for me - made it to the blastocyst stage. I was absolutely ecstatic. Until we got the results. Neither was viable. That was August. This fall, it’s been a roller coaster. It seems every time we think things look to be going better, we hit another roadblock. It’s been extremely emotional. Some days I hold it together well, I laugh, I enjoy activities. Other days, I break down in tears on the phone with the fertility center….or sipping my coffee,  journaling, or driving, or just existing. I wish I had a nice little bow to wrap up this section, but I don’t. We’re still hopeful. We still have a plan. We aren’t giving up by any means. But we don’t have answers either, so right now, this is a “to be continued…” 

             

Work

I’m going to say something that I never thought I’d say about working for a company that I didn’t own: the absolutely bright spot of my year has been work. It started out a little uncertain. The department that my team was under was moved to a new division of the company, but my specific team stayed in the division we were in. This meant that my teammate and I got moved under a new director who was staying under our current division, while everyone else on our team, including our manager, got moved to the new division. I didn’t know the new team well, and I admittedly was a bit nervous, since I had only been at the company just over a year and was just feeling like I was settled into the current team. Shortly after our team transitioned, my new manager, who is actually the director of the larger team, told me that they were creating a new Supervisor position for my team, and encouraged me to apply. Long story short, I did apply, went through several rounds of interviews, and I got the supervisor role! I don’t honestly know if anyone else applied to it or not, but I don’t feel it was given to me simply for lack of options. I feel like I was a good fit for the role, and it provided me with an opportunity to take the next step in my career path as a company. I’m now about 10 months into that role - I started 2/28 - and I have learned and grown so much because of it. I’ve gotten to grow the team I oversee, to have more interaction with other areas of our larger team, to be part of the leadership team (comprised of my boss/our director, myself, a senior manager, and a manager within our department), to help guide and grow Inbound Logistics as a whole. I’m absolutely loving it, and I am genuinely looking forward to continuing to grow in my role, team, and company. 

In addition to my new team and role, my company introduced several Associate Resource Groups (ARGs) this year as part of our DEI development, and I joined the Advocates & Allies ARG. Anyone that knows me even a tiny bit knows how important advocacy work is to me, and being able to partake in this group is truly exciting. I’m also grateful to be part of a company that genuinely prioritizes DEI work, advocacy, and allyship.  The ARG I’ve joined is still in the beginning stages, and I’m looking forward to delving into it more in the coming year. 

We also started going back into the office occasionally. Starting this summer, it was voluntary to come into the office on Wednesdays each week, but not required to ever be in. Myself and my boss and one or two others regularly went in most Wednesdays. In October, the schedule changed so that we have to be in twice a month. We have set Wednesdays throughout the month , and our whole team comes in. It’s still not a ton of people and there’s a lot of empty space, which is nice for both the introvert in me as well as the covid anxiety in me. To be clear, I’m still a strong proponent of work from home, and absolutely believe in always having that option because it is really the only way to provide true equity for certain communities, such as the chronically ill community.  It's my preference most of the time. But I have been pretty isolated and don’t leave the house a ton, so it’s been nice to break up the routine, to actually drive and listen to music, and it’s good to meet my colleagues in person, because it feels like we get to connect in a different way. I’m always masked in the office,  I eat my lunches in my car, and I surreptitiously inch my mask up to sip coffee at my desk, which is in a cubicle surrounded on most sides by extra plexi glass for additional protection. If I ran the world, there would definitely be rules and guidelines I’d require for in-person office days while Covid is still a thing. But since I don’t run the world, I do my best to feel safe while also getting the experience of being in the office with my coworkers on occasion and breaking up my routine, which has become pretty sedentary and …well… routine. 

Staycation 

It’s been four and a half years since I’ve traveled internationally (Spain family trip, summer 2018) and just over three years since I’ve done a domestic vacation (New England Road Trip late November 2019). Besides seeing friends and family as much, travel is the thing I miss the absolute most since the pandemic started. I’m ok without dining out. I miss live music, but honestly I don’t know if I could go to a packed concert anymore, especially indoors - not just because of covid but because my feelings about large, packed group events have changed in general. I’m definitely ok with primarily working from home. I miss teaching and taking yoga in person, but I do enjoy my online classes, and it’s allowed me to practice with people from all over, instead of just nearby. But not being able to travel feels like missing an intrinsic piece of myself. I feel the most authentically me, the most free, the most like everything is going to be ok,  when I’m traveling (other than the actual flight part because I don’t love flying). It’s like the ability to explore and adventure, to wander the streets where nobody knows you and can hold you to some preconceived idea of yourself or judge you by your past, where you can be whoever you want to be, allows my best and truest self to emerge. In summer of 2022 I had the opportunity to go to my family’s timeshare, along with several family members, in Mexico. I didn’t take that option. Primarily because of covid, but also because we couldn’t get our dog into her ‘camp’ that she goes to while we’re away because it was booked. So instead, my husband and I took a staycation. I’ve never done a staycation, and for obvious reasons it wasn’t the same as, say, the two week trip we did to Greece, or a luxury safari in Kenya and Tanzania like we’ve done in the past. But it was wonderful. We planned out day trips and activities. We took one day to hang out by our pool. We did an excursion with our dog Grace. We dined outdoors. We made rudimentary plans, but allowed ourselves to go with the flow within those generic plans, which is something we don’t often do. I thought I was going to be tempted to check my work email or do chores or take care of things around the house because we were home each morning and night, unlike a destination vacation.  But after the first day or two of “this feels weird, I’m shirking basically all responsibility other than taking care of the dog”, that impulse went away, and it felt great! I never understood staycations before, but I do now. I’m not saying I’d choose it over traveling if covid wasn’t a thing (and if I could get my dog into her camp), but it definitely felt like a vacation, despite our home base being, well, home. 

                                     

                                         

House Updates

Owning a 100+ year old home is like the gift that keeps on giving, if that gift included both anticipated and unexpected issues that cost tons of money. All kidding aside, we love our house - it truly feels like home.  We have been continually having work and updates done, some of which were planned and some not so much, essentially since we moved in. This past year, we got the remainder of our rooms painted (by professionals, not ourselves), and the remainder of the new windows we’d ordered installed. We had a lot of new plumbing work (not planned), including our upstairs shower re-done by necessity, since they had to take the floor and part of the wall out due to said plumbing work. We got our fence variance, which allowed us to move the fence significantly closer to the edge of the property line, giving us much more usable space in our backyard. It’s been a game changer, especially for Grace, who now has about triple the space to run around. As part of that fence variance, we had to do landscaping along the fence within a year, so we had landscapers come out to dig up and mulch the area, plant arborvitae, drift roses, hydrangeas, and ornamental grasses. It’s a massive improvement. And finally, one of our front pillars fell down. Like something out of a dramatic movie scene. One minute it was there, the next minute it was a pile of rubble on the front porch (ahem… still is a pile of rubble on the front porch because we haven’t gotten it cleaned up yet). But we got composite pillars and had them both installed. They still need some paint work, but they’re in, and our entryway roof isn’t going to collapse, so that’s a good thing. The house is continuing to come together, and I honestly can’t imagine living anywhere else. Even on the days when things happen like our front pillar crashing onto our porch, I’m so grateful that we have this home. 

Yoga 

I wish I could say that my online yoga business is taking off and I’m getting tons of new students and adding a bunch of classes, but authenticity is always my thing, so I can’t say that this is the case. As studios have reopened and dropped mask requirements, people are practicing more in person. My class numbers haven’t grown, in fact they’ve shrunk from the “early stages of the pandemic” numbers, but I still have a steady group that comes to my Tuesday benefit class, as well as my pop-ups, especially on Sundays. My groups may be small, but they’re dedicated and loyal, and that means the world to me, and I’m so grateful. They spread the word, inviting friends and family members who occasionally join. I couldn’t ask for a better group to share practice with. I’d love to grow my yoga offerings, to get further into more limbs of yoga in addition to asana - maybe online workshops or retreats, that at some point in the who-knows-when future I’ll eventually feel comfortable doing in person. Maybe I’ll explore that in 2023, we’ll see. I’m also taking an online Yin Yoga course (and have done a lot of reading/work on Yin Yoga in addition) to further my knowledge of this branch of yoga. I’ve signed up for an online Restorative Yoga course as well. I’d love to be able to take these in person, but I’m just not there yet, and at this stage of my life, as my time gets pulled between work and home and fertility treatment, the online courses give me the flexibility that works for me. They by no means make me an expert in these areas (nor does my 200 hour in person training make me an expert in yoga), but they give me the confidence to better approach these types of classes, and they deepen my own knowledge, even if just to have that knowledge for myself. In addition, it’s really helped me shift my perspective. As a former gymnast, I’ve always been that student that can’t wait to get into an inversion or arm balance - not because I think you need to do these to “do yoga”, but because I personally enjoy these. And I still enjoy these, though I have less chance to practice them these days. But focusing more on Yin, bringing those elements more into my practices and classes, has allowed me to slow down, to focus not so much on the physical aspects of the poses, but on the deeper aspects - the stillness, the quiet, the opportunity to get beyond just the physical asana into something deeper. It’s tough to be deep when you’re trying to balance yourself upside down in a handstand - or at least it is for me. Yin has brought a balance to my practice that I’m starting to see in my life as well, and I’m really intrigued and interested to explore that balance further, as I continue to grow my yin education and practice, and delve into Restorative as well.

Writing

For my birthday, my parents got me a subscription to Storyworth. Essentially, it helps you tell the story of you. Every week for a year, it sends a question about yourself, your life, etc.. You write a reply and add it to the Storyworth site. When the year is up, you receive a hardcover book with all of your stories. You have the option to skip/swap out a question, and while they send you a prompt every week, there’s no timeline per se, other than that you answer them all in the year. Meaning that you don’t have to answer one question to get the next. So if you wanted to sit down the last week of the year and answer all 52, I suppose you could. I try to get most answers written within the week, but some weeks I have to push it to the following (like I may this week with the holiday). This has really gotten me back into more weekly writing, and I love that. I journal daily, but I haven’t been blogging like I used to. I just haven’t really felt all that inspired, and combine that with all of the time I spend on the computer for work, I’ve been shying away from blogging in my free time. But with Storyworth, I don’t have to feel “inspired’ per se - I don’t have to come up with the content, they do. And it’s a whole range of questions that I may not have thought to write about. Some more serious, some more light-hearted. I’m loving it. It feels really good to write again regularly, and it’s a great creative outlet for me - something that I’ve felt lacking over the past couple of years. 

I think that sums up the bigger aspects of 2022 for me. There have been lots of smaller things in between. I’ve gotten to visit with several friends (either outdoors or indoors masked) that I hadn’t seen since before the pandemic, which was great. I’ve also been more in contact this year with several friends who are also still limiting activity due to covid, and have been feeling similar isolation and loneliness as I’ve been. It’s been really nice growing these friendships and deepening those connections. My husband and I have done some day trips, in addition to our staycation. We’ve been slowly exploring record stores in the area and building our record collection. We spent a lot of time grilling (ok that’s mostly him, I just provided company) this summer, and enjoyed our pool. As the weather has turned colder, we’ve enjoyed our fireplaces. We’ve laughed a ton, even though this year has held some really disappointing and emotionally painful moments.  It’s been a year with a few big events and a lot of waiting (and anxiety) in between, and trying to make the best of some really difficult situations. 

Easter Nostalgia

 Holidays are a time that always make me nostalgic. Easter particularly so. It was my Grandma Ventura's favorite holiday, and all through childhood and adolescence, really until I went to college, we'd spend Easter in Buffalo at my Grandma's. It wasn't just us and my parents at my grandma's - it was aunts, uncles, cousins, great aunts, great uncles, second cousins. Plus, three of my siblings lived in Buffalo as well, and while I don't have specific memories of seeing them on Easter, I do associate going to Buffalo with the opportunity to see them as well (for clarity's sake, three of my siblings are actually half siblings who did not grow up in the same household as me, but I never differentiate the "half" because I just think of us all as siblings). So Easter trips to Buffalo were a big, big family affair. 

When I think back on these days, the overwhelming feelings that surfaces is connection. I think back to arriving at my grandma's sometime in the middle of the night (we drove up after my parents finished work, and it's about a 6.5-7 hour drive), and my grandma welcoming us in with Italian wedding soup and zucchini bread. It never occurred to me that this was an odd combination at any time, let alone at 2AM. It also never occurred to me how much effort it must have taken my grandma to be awake and appear alert at that hour. Now, I recognize these as love. As a kid, it was just what going to grandma's meant. 

I think about how on Good Friday, we weren't allowed to watch TV or go out or do "anything" between 12 and 3PM, per Catholic tradition. We were allowed to visit together at my grandma's, though. And oddly, listen to Harry Belafonte records. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure the latter was a diversion from standard Catholic practices. As a10 year olds, sitting around in the living room visiting with adults and listening to Harry Belafonte wasn't exactly how we wanted to spend an afternoon on our Easter break, but looking back at it, it's one of the memories that sticks out the most. These days, I'd give a lot to be able to sit around with my grandma (who passed in 2008), my family, aunts, uncles, cousins visiting and listening to Harry Belafonte records. I can't honestly remember the last time we were all together, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was over a decade ago, and obviously longer for times that included my grandma. 

I think about how all of us cousins used to play croquet in grandma's back yard, and the games of basketball we played using the hoop that she had hung on her garage door.  How we'd make up skits and songs. I think of the family "talent shows" (I use the word loosely) that my grandma loved SO much - she always had everyone participate, and somewhere in someone's possession (hopefully someone related to me, at least) are VCR tapes of my cousins telling jokes with tennis racket bags on their heads and my grandma and I singing duets. 

I think of waking up Easter morning and searching for our Easter baskets when we were younger, and when we got older, helping our younger cousins to find their baskets. Then going to Easter mass Sunday morning, all dressed up in our Easter best.  (Gratefully, Grandma didn't usually take us to Easter Vigil, and if you've ever been a kid having to sit through Catholic Easter Vigil, you likely understand this sentiment). 

When we got home it would be a big meal with aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandma's siblings and their families. We'd extend out the dining room table as far as it would go, and put up card tables for the kids. And by kids, I mean everyone under the age of about 30, because grandma's dining room table wasn't all that big.  There would be some traditional food and some questionable food, which was generally my Aunt Clara's contribution, and everyone steered clear of it. There would be pupa cu l'ovas (cookies that have a hard boiled egg, in its shell, in the middle of them), of which we'd eat the cookie part and give our parents the egg, who dutifully ate probably a dozen eggs over the course of Easter weekend. My uncle would inevitably take the peppercorn eyes from the butter lamb and stick them on it's butt so that it looked like it was pooping, and we'd always try to hide that fact from my grandma, all while snickering and giving each other knowing looks. At least 50 percent of the time there was a good natured food fight. 100 percent of those time it was the adults. 

As I write out all of these memories, I realize how silly so many of them are, and yet how they still bring a smile to my face. As ridiculous as we all were at times, we were connecting. We were spending time together - actually spending time together, not all being in the same room but watching TV or on phones and other devices. We interacted, we played games, we had conversations, we made memories. Together. These days, my siblings and cousins are spread across multiple states, some on the other side of the country. I haven't spent a full holiday with more than about 8 people in years, and even that's somewhat rare. I think it hits especially hard with my siblings and some of my cousins having their own families now, carrying on some of these traditions and creating their own, and us still struggling with our IVF journey, not having our own children yet to do the same. It gets to me at every holiday, but I think especially Easter, as I associate it so much with my grandma, and Buffalo, and our time all together.  It's been especially difficult these past two years in the pandemic, since contact has been limited and traveling to see people has been nonexistent for us. 

Still, writing through these memories has been soothing. At times, I wish for the innocence of being a kid whose biggest concern was having to sit through three hours on Good Friday without "doing anything" except listening to Harry Belafonte, or having to wait until after Easter mass to dig into our Easter baskets. At the same time, it reminds me that I don't have to always take life, or myself, so seriously, and that you don't have to be a kid to goof around and have fun. It also serves to remind me that we don't always realize we're making memories at the time, and that just because circumstances aren't what you imagined they would be right now, it doesn't mean that you won't some day look back on these moments with a new perspective and appreciation for all that they did offer. 

Fog

I originally wrote this post about a week ago, on a morning when fog was blanketing the area and there was still about six inches of snow on the ground from a storm the previous weekend. 

I sit in my sunroom that's also my home office and gaze out the windows at the morning fog. It settles in a haze above the snow, surrounding the trees in the park across the street, creating an ambiance that feels both slightly eery but also peaceful. There's an emptiness to it, but not in the hollow sort of way. Not in the way I've been feeling lately. The emptiness of the fog-laden world outside gives the impression of being expansive, the openness it creates feels peaceful, inviting, a space of possibility. A place where if you pause quietly and listen, instead of feeling lost, you feel connected. 

Lately, I've been feeling isolated. Physically (pandemic plus winter), socially, emotionally. In this isolation, the quiet - from lack of activity, lack of connection with others, lack of feeling a purpose- has felt incredibly loud. It's had me feeling lost in the world, in my relationships with others, with myself. This morning, though, something feels as if it has shifted internally. As I peer outside at the white and gray tones of my snow and fog covered neighborhood, the stillness, the quiet, feels like an opportunity,  purposeful somehow. 

I'd recently noticed that I have been fighting against the quiet, the stillness. For the past few weeks (and really, probably much longer), I've been telling myself a lot of stories. I've been telling myself that if I post more on social media, if I try to interact more with people online, I'll feel less alone. I tell myself that if I can find more activities and actions to fill my time, I'll feel more fulfilled because I won't be bored, because I won't feel like "I have nothing to do" or "I have no purpose". I've been once again feeling this urgent need to figure out exactly what I'm going to do with my life right now, and telling myself that if I figure this out, I'll feel happier. To be clear, I wasn't doing all of this consciously, at least not fully. Yes, I knew I was posting or interacting with people - I wasn't sleep-scrolling. But it wasn't an intentional, thought out decision. I was grasping and clinging and trying to control a lot of things that I have no way of controlling, because they are outside of me. In short, I was doing the exact opposite of the theme word and supporting words I've chosen for this year - Nurture. Nourish. Release. 

Toward the end of last week, I decided to take a social media break (I did check LinkedIn, but I don't really count that). It wasn't sparked by a specific incident. I simply felt that I was putting way too much stake in the curated lives of others, in who and how many people reacted or replied to a post - many (most, in fact) of whom I would likely never hear from again if somehow social media ceased to exist. In trying to "connect" more, I was feeling increasingly lonely.  I was allowing it to affect my self-worth and my connection with myself.  My brain also felt overloaded with stimulus, most of it not even information I particularly cared about, but it was right there in front of me, and I'd get sucked in.  It was taking up valuable brain space, which is especially tricky for someone like me, whose cyclothymic and anxious brain easily jumps all over the place without the added stimulus of alerts and notifications and constant media. Likewise, I noticed that the more I railed against having unused time/less to do, the harder I tried to wrack my brain for "what am I doing with my life", the more intensely disconnected I felt from myself, from any sense of purpose. 

This morning, it occurred to me that maybe this stillness, this quiet is exactly what I need right now. I have noticed that since being off social media, I'm feeling more creative. Over the past few days, I've had several ideas pop into my head and have grabbed pen and paper to jot them down (I'm still old school when it comes to any writing that's not blogging). It feels like being online less, and having fewer pop up alerts and notifications and stimulus, have I've found myself drawn back to some of the yogic concepts (not physical poses, but other aspects of the practice) that we studied in Yoga Teacher Training, but that I haven't explored as much since. I'm finding that as I'm pushing myself less to "figure it all out right now", I'm feeling less antsy, more open to letting ideas come in and percolate a bit, enjoying the fact that I get these thoughts swirling in, instead of trying to force them to create something more concrete right this moment. 

Of course, realizing what I am feeling doesn't mean that I stop feeling it. Being able to say "ah, what I'm feeling is loneliness" doesn't mean I feel less lonely, just like how I frequently recognize when I'm feeling anxious, depressed, or hypomanic, yet knowing this doesn't make these feelings go away. I can't simply change my thinking to "I will not feel lonely/depressed/anxious/etc", that's not how the brain, and particularly the brain with mental illness, works. But recognizing what I'm feeling, and having an idea of why I'm feeling it, can help me to process it and, in some cases, take actions to help. Seeing where I'm pushing and grasping and clinging, where I'm fighting against what I'm feeling and it's doing more harm than good, can help me to make shifts, even if subtle and even if temporary (i.e. I'll likely go back on social media at some point, even if it's just to do things like share these blog posts). 

So this morning, I'm welcoming the stillness, the space. In gazing out my windows at the fog-filled, snowy park across the street, I'm able to see how quiet emptiness can be a place for opportunity, openness, exploration. How it can be expansive instead of hollow and encapsulating. And while I know that an empty park filled with snow isn't going to erase my need for connection to other humans, or make certain aspects of my life, like going through IVF treatment during a pandemic, feel less lonely or isolating. But it reminds my of why the vision board I created at the start of 2022 contains clippings of the phrases "Nature's Sanctuary", "Practice in Solitude", "More Presence", and "Truly Live Yoga". There is beauty to be found in the stillness, in the quiet, in the  foggy space between where you are now and  knowing exactly where you want to be.