So, today I feel blessed. I feel blessed most days - we all have those ones where it's hard to feel the blessings - but today, today I just feel it in my bones. I've been afforded a lot of really amazing experiences in my life that have brought me to where I stand today. Struggles, hardships, celebrations, accomplishments, the-right-place-the-right-time, serendipity have all played a hand. Today all roads lead to me sitting at a table in the WGME 13 news studio celebrating 7 schools who raised nearly 500,000 lbs of food for the Good Shepherd Food Bank of Maine. I fan-girled it up. I took pictures with the anchors. I took pictures with the kids. I sipped my coffee and ate a blueberry muffin, and totally didn't follow my meal plan. It was all very jovial. And as the celebration was winding down I got to partake in some amazing conversations with WGME 13's station management, anchors and my fellow food bankers. I, I, I, I, I....And it hit me how the heck did I get to be here? How flipping blessed am I to be sitting at this table, talking with these amazing people on how to effect change for the people of our great State of Maine? Me, just a small town girl, how did I get here? To have and be a voice of change? I'm not a news anchor with a huge following; I'm a data entry clerk and massage therapist.
Maine is a small community, and if I got the chance to sit there and be a part of the conversation, anyone can. Anyone can take action to make their community a better place to be. Hunger is real people. I know I've joked, "I get angry when I'm hungry." The key words there are "when I get hungry." I'm lucky right now. I know what my meals are for this week and for the foreseeable future. Imagine living in constant hunger. Imagine you are a child going to school hungry. You try to learn but your belly is growling. How could you learn like that? How can you focus on making your life better? You can't. Our babies, our children, our society's most vulnerable population, most certainly cannot. One in four children in the State of Maine face this every day...every day...HUNGER is their reality. Going to bed without a meal, IS their reality, not a punishment because they didn't like what option they were given for dinner. They didn't even have the option to have dinner.
Let fix that! Go be a part of the discussion in your community. Let's all be a part of the solution. Let's follow the lead of the teenagers who have participated in the School Spirit Challenge and get involved in our communities. Let's say the buck stops here. Maybe I can't give money, maybe I can give my time. Maybe getting involved means getting uncomfortable and really seeing what hunger looks like in your town. Maybe it means sharing your experience and being an educator. If this small town girl, can be a part of the conversation, you can to. You can be a light to someone in need. You can be the flame that lights their torch and shows them that life can be better. Together we can solve anything.
***Just to toss this out there, these are my musings and are not representative of any group I work for am affiliated with. They represent my thoughts and mine alone.***
Friday, March 4, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Finding the Ground
My whole life has been spent escaping, mentally checking out. Outwardly everything is always on the up and up, my mom taught me that skill. She struggled her whole life with bipolar disorder, and depression. At one point she checked herself into a mental health hospital, because she knew she was sick and needed help. I only have blurry memories of that, but regardless, she fought a silent fight for the majority of her life, because of the fear of people's judgment. I'm tearing up just thinking of the mental anguish she put on herself, hiding from people because, "they wouldn't like her if they knew the truth." I was my mother's secret keeper.
I was her secret keeper before I was born. I, in someways, was the only person alive who felt her pain of my brother's death. I was there, a part of her, taking up residence in her belly. I don't in anyway claim to really know her pain, but it connected us. Pain connected us, during on of Mum's highs, she told me that she never wanted a girl, and she never wanted a red head. Ha, that's an awesome cosmic joke! I'm not sure we ever really found a way to resolve our differences while she was alive. I spent my childhood trying to escape the pain of being an only child, of trying to be the two children my parents had, while only being one. And I've spent my entire "adulthood" trying to teach myself that I am enough. It just dawned on me that I have survivor's guilt.
Daydreaming has always been my saving grace. I can imagine I'm anywhere but here. I don't have to be Gabe and Tabitha. I can be a ballerina, I can be a ninja, I can be a queen, I can be a warrior. I can be anything...anything except for who I am right here, right now. Mentally escaping hasn't produced a damn thing in my life, but the need for more escape.
Movement. Physical movement has been my salvation. Every time I slip into not wanting to be here, I move my body. Dance was my medicine when I was younger. Lifting weights give me that now. I feel so strong physically that I pull on that strength mentally. If I can lift this weight I can do anything. I can move fucking mountains! Helping people move their body, helps them move their emotions, helps them let go of the past and focus on their future. It helps them find their ground. That's why I'm a massage therapist, that's why I lift, and that's why I teach. That's my mission in life to move everyBODY, so that we all rise to meet our fullest potential!
EDIT: After writing this I jumped into the shower and a thought popped into my head. I'd like to say this was a thought of my own, but the wisdom of makes me feel it was other worldly.
"The pain you feel today, is the strength you provide to someone tomorrow. Let your pain be your light."
I was her secret keeper before I was born. I, in someways, was the only person alive who felt her pain of my brother's death. I was there, a part of her, taking up residence in her belly. I don't in anyway claim to really know her pain, but it connected us. Pain connected us, during on of Mum's highs, she told me that she never wanted a girl, and she never wanted a red head. Ha, that's an awesome cosmic joke! I'm not sure we ever really found a way to resolve our differences while she was alive. I spent my childhood trying to escape the pain of being an only child, of trying to be the two children my parents had, while only being one. And I've spent my entire "adulthood" trying to teach myself that I am enough. It just dawned on me that I have survivor's guilt.
Daydreaming has always been my saving grace. I can imagine I'm anywhere but here. I don't have to be Gabe and Tabitha. I can be a ballerina, I can be a ninja, I can be a queen, I can be a warrior. I can be anything...anything except for who I am right here, right now. Mentally escaping hasn't produced a damn thing in my life, but the need for more escape.
Movement. Physical movement has been my salvation. Every time I slip into not wanting to be here, I move my body. Dance was my medicine when I was younger. Lifting weights give me that now. I feel so strong physically that I pull on that strength mentally. If I can lift this weight I can do anything. I can move fucking mountains! Helping people move their body, helps them move their emotions, helps them let go of the past and focus on their future. It helps them find their ground. That's why I'm a massage therapist, that's why I lift, and that's why I teach. That's my mission in life to move everyBODY, so that we all rise to meet our fullest potential!
EDIT: After writing this I jumped into the shower and a thought popped into my head. I'd like to say this was a thought of my own, but the wisdom of makes me feel it was other worldly.
"The pain you feel today, is the strength you provide to someone tomorrow. Let your pain be your light."
Monday, November 16, 2015
Movement
I look at my family and see all these wonderful and gifted talents, and I wonder where's mine? What makes me stand out, aside from the fiery blaze of curly hair atop my head? What talent do I have to give to the world that is uniquely me? I don't think I've ever sat long enough to find it. I don't think I've ever had the patience to see much through to fruition. I'm a bit, oh look sparkles!
Then I realize this movement, this inability to sit still, this IS my gift. With or without my consent, my life has always been pack your bag and go. Even now having lived in my home for four years, I essentially live out of my car. Work eight hours here, see clients there, teach a class 3 towns over. That's a day's work and then some. My early years were filled with dance competitions all over New England. Dance taught me balance - quite literally, how to think on my toes, how to command an audience, how to fill a space with my presence, how to be humble and say thank you, how to take and follow direction, and think as part of a group. I wouldn't be where I am today without those qualities. But most of all dance taught me about movement, and although my love story with this type of stage is long history, its lessons live on.
Movement is so vitally important in life. Water a life giving force, becomes stagnant and deadly without movement. Our bodies and minds do the same. I hold my emotions so deeply they become stone. I used to dance that away. As an adult I lift. I lift to raise my own bar. I lift to be a better me. I lift to move my pain. I lift to create a physical pain that makes the emotional pain hurt less. I lift because it feels fuckin incredible to see how my mind has the control in all ways. I lift to show myself that I can push past the barriers set before me. I lift to create stability both physically and mentally. I lift because I love movement, because if nothing else movement is all that I am.
Then I realize this movement, this inability to sit still, this IS my gift. With or without my consent, my life has always been pack your bag and go. Even now having lived in my home for four years, I essentially live out of my car. Work eight hours here, see clients there, teach a class 3 towns over. That's a day's work and then some. My early years were filled with dance competitions all over New England. Dance taught me balance - quite literally, how to think on my toes, how to command an audience, how to fill a space with my presence, how to be humble and say thank you, how to take and follow direction, and think as part of a group. I wouldn't be where I am today without those qualities. But most of all dance taught me about movement, and although my love story with this type of stage is long history, its lessons live on.
Movement is so vitally important in life. Water a life giving force, becomes stagnant and deadly without movement. Our bodies and minds do the same. I hold my emotions so deeply they become stone. I used to dance that away. As an adult I lift. I lift to raise my own bar. I lift to be a better me. I lift to move my pain. I lift to create a physical pain that makes the emotional pain hurt less. I lift because it feels fuckin incredible to see how my mind has the control in all ways. I lift to show myself that I can push past the barriers set before me. I lift to create stability both physically and mentally. I lift because I love movement, because if nothing else movement is all that I am.
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| Sometimes you get stuck in the mud. You are absolutely covered in it, and all the people around you do is take pictures. But remember, it's temporary and sometimes getting muddy is fun. |
Welcome
Despite my outgoing and boisterous nature, I am very much an internalist. I act. I reflect. I analyze. Maybe I have that backwards, and I should think more before I act. But when I reflect and analyze on whether or not I should switch that up, I realize that's behavior pattern has guided me to where I am today. And, frankly, I love my story.
Everyone has a story to tell. Some of it is mundane, some terrifying and some how you overcame the odds to be standing where you are RIGHT now. This is my story. This is my life. This is my perspective. There are all kinds of awakenings in this life, I hope mine is graceful.
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