Double Trouble

Yesterday was Easter. The re-birth. The start of something new.

Right now the only thing that I've been starting is exhaustion from being sick for nearly five weeks. My double inner ear infection spread to the middle ear, which spread to my sinuses, which spread to my lymph nodes, which has spread to my motivational level. Thus, I'm not feeling it.

Never have I felt such exhaustion from an illness other than H1N1, which knocked me out for at least three weeks of recovery.

But I am on two more new medications, and I hope this is the beginning of the end.

I feel as though a lot of changes are on the horizon, and a lot of them begin with me.

Overlooked by all but me

The poor monkfish. What did he ever to do receive the ugly stick? Why was he not blessed with the beautiful graces of the squirrel, the chipmunk, the deer?

I felt bad for him today. No one wanted him at the fish market. The others, they wanted tilapia, salmon, swordfish. I took the monkfish home. I massaged him in olive oil, soothed him some chunks of garlic, bathed him in lime juice, tickled him with freshly ground pepper. And then I coated him with an eclectic robe of riches: salsa that I made with mango, cucumber, sweet red pepper, cilantro, and this overpriced pineapple core that came from Wegman's.

Upon his completion, the once plain swimmer now stood on the winner's circle, basking in his glory.

He was, indeed, divine in all of his paleo-centricity.

Speaking of which...I had a neat experience at Mr. Bill's where I was trying to find organic turkey bacon. Unfortunately, no one at the Farmer's Market carried the brand which I wanted. But the butcher noted what types of meats I was requesting, to which he asked if I did endurance sports. Yes. Ah, he says he could tell because he provides the same organic, free-range products to numerous Ironman competitors. And then he said he was friends with Sharon Mongrain, a woman from Philadelphia who I know by proxy. Small world, it is. And it was a sign, I think, that I am moving in the right direction.

I am an avocado.

If I return as a fruit, I will be an avocado.

A versatile fruit, the avocado provides one of the smoothest and flavorful centers. It’s not sharp or bitter. Rather, it’s beyond mellow. Plus, it’s inclined to warm weather. It’s productive when treated properly. It was worshipped by the Aztecs who considered it a fertility fruit.

Not that I want to be worshipped in any fashion relating to fertility. But I want to be treated well by the people in my life.

We all do.

Unfortunately, I don’t always feel that way, and so I continue to take measures to eliminate negative people from my surroundings. Recently, however, I spent several hours with a well-respected professional with an arm’s length of credentials.

However, he was clearly outspoken in his criticism of my training and my goals. Even though he doesn’t know me, his comments stung for days, and I can still clearly hear his toxic words piercing my hopes. Fortunately, I don’t have to listen to him again, but the pain that I internalized still lingers.

Coupled with that incident, I am dealing with the stresses of overhauling my nutrition plan, which has its flock of skeptics. As a former vegetarian and animals rights zealot for most of my 20s, I found the prospect of becoming a subscriber to the Paleolithic plan rather ironic. Still, I have not felt as healthy and as clean in a long time, and that includes my years as a strict vegetarian.

Despite continuous reading, researching and talking with other Paleos, I feel as though I have to defend my choice to question whether I consume too many cereal grains that contain the toxic protein gluten. No, I don’ t need to eat a bowl of Kashi or fusilli to get my carbohydrates. But people will still insist that I do.

Since my switch, I am cooking with new approaches, embracing kale as my partner. Coconut and grapeseed oils have added new flavors to my fish dishes and vegetables. Organic bison has replaced all other beef. My chickens roam free!

Yet as content that I am with my decisions, I still feel as though I am finding my way to becoming the person that I am meant to be. Right now, with a few injuries not completely healed—physically and emotionally—I am a one-oared rowboat, circling, circling. What I need most is to be with other avocadoes—smooth, mellow, worthy of being treated well.

Goodbye 2010

2010, you were a dynamic year, indeed.

Despite the passing of George Steinbrenner, John Murtha, Dennis Hopper, and Tyler, I thought 2010 wasn't entirely bad.

1: I fought back injury and completed my goal race in respectable fashion.

2: I started my core book project, although it definitely needs more of my time.

3: I began what I believe is a solid screenplay with a very creative partner, although we still remain in the early stages.

4: I saw my parents both deal with some medical issues, but come through successfully.

5: I prayed as one friend overcame severe complications after delivery of her first baby.

6: And I prayed for the healthy growth of another friend's tiny premature twins.

7: I cried for a family who was robbed of a handsome, charming son who made me a better teacher.

8: I wept for a man who was judged by society and took his life to end the nightmare.

9: I listened to friends who needed me as they dealt with difficult decisions in their personal and professional lives.

10: Finally, I witnessed a marked change in the development of my girls, both of whom seem to be flourishing at a remarkable rate. And for them, I am truly thankful for they are a core part of my second lease on life.

For the record, Kendall's final words of wisdom of 2010 came today amongst racks of bras in the lingerie department of a retail store.

Kendall: "I love these bras. They're so beautiful."
Me: "Someday, you can have a bra."
Kendall: "I want one today."
Me: "Maybe we can look in the girls' department."
Kendall: "For bras?"
Me: "For bras."
Kendall excitedly whispers to her sister: "Did you hear that Grace? It's going down. My boobs are gonna have their own house!"

Ah, the innocence of a five-year-old...

Kicking Old Habits

Throughout the week, I converse with a multitude of individuals—ages 14 to 54—from diverse and dynamic backgrounds. No matter the topic, their insights and discourse often teach me some lesson in life. Of course, the tone of their delivery can vary greatly, which is sometimes more interesting than their original purpose. Many of them bear the traits of positivity that spread like wildfire, igniting sparks in the bellies of those who surround them. I thrive in their presence. Some, however, emit a sense of negativity that often pervades an otherwise favorable environment, a bottom-feeder mentality that reeks and yellows the mood like stale cigarettes. Unfortunately, I cannot avoid the fatalists; instead, I just observe them, take note, move forward.

Recently, a friend wrote a missive about the effects that others have on our lives. His words truly hit me, for I feel as though we often choose to spend valuable time in our lives with negative people, when we do have the choice not to. I confess that I have committed this sin in the guise of being “proper.”

Steve wrote: “It is a peculiarity of human relationships that it is virtually impossible for one individual to have a lasting positive influence upon members of a group of negative thinkers. Usually, it works the other way. You cannot maintain a positive attitude if you spend all your time with negative people. Those who have wrecked their own lives are not the kind of people who will help you achieve success in your own life.”

Far too often, friends reveal that they are unhappy in their marriage, unhappy with their colleagues, unhappy with their family. So what is one to do? Stay in the situation? Maintain the relationship because it is what we’re supposed to do by societal standards? If so, how can we ever find success?

To me, the answer is to simply do what’s best for oneself, not for anyone else. People who call it selfish are selfish themselves, for they cannot appreciate that we need to do in order to positively live our lives. There are people who we must weed out of our lives for their negativity saps the energy that we need to spend on ourselves and our personal growth. To criticize anyone for choosing to do what's best for themselves is more egocentric, so long as such decisions are not affecting the safety and welfare of our very young.

Of course, I cannot extract myself from every Debbie Downer and Badmouthing Bob who cross my path. But I can surround myself with those who “get it” and will help me attain my goals, to find my greater purpose, to become whole.

Dumping emotional and psychological baggage gives us a sense of catharsis. It’s like kicking an old habit. My goal is to continue supporting my friends and family who need to kick their habits, and not be judgmental about the choices they make to help them be better, happier people.

Who says egg rolls don't grow in trees?

Sometimes, you just have to believe, even if it flies in the face of what others view as common sense.

Emotional Web

So on Friday night, I took my girls to the high school play. But I did not go to play at my new school. Instead, I drove the 30 minutes to Bethlehem to see Freedom's production of Charlotte's Web.

The show, as usual, was outstanding, thanks largely in part to the talents of my dear friend Jen, an exceptional English teacher but an even more exceptional theater goddess. Wonder Woman has nothing on her.

But the best part of the show, and the worst part as well, was seeing several of my squirrels perform on stage, two years since I had last seen them. They seemed to have sprouted into young adults overnight, no longer the much more shy freshmen and sophomores that I remember. They exuded confidence and bravado as they took the stage and the aisles.

I cried at the end, and not because the spider died. I cried for the slight feeling of guilt for leaving behind people for whom I cared greatly, my students and my colleagues. One of my former students, Robbie, lit up when he saw me, grabbing me for a tight hug and laughing hysterically when I asked him to sign my program. He said: "Oh, Ms. Reaman. You know you are one of the only teachers who has ever made me laugh constantly. You 'got' me. And I sure do miss you tremendously."

On the way home, a way that I no longer drive five days a week, I felt a sense of catharsis. I know that I was but a small influence on their lives as they carry on to new challenges and greater tasks. But I will always feel that this school will be a home away from home, not matter how much time passes.