This is a quick photo of my hair at its best – colored, professionally blown-out and attached to a rested face. Yet, I’m pretty sure I’m letting it go in the spring. Back to handy short hair that’s easily washed and quick to comb – possibly grey. Why? Read on.

The New Truck

Last show, I pondered greatly and shared my anxiety over the fact the we had to purchase a new truck. You can see photos of this beauty on the show notes of Day 150. It is a big, beautiful truck that handles great, solves a BIG transportation problem, fits BOTH big tall Mark and shorter me really well. Our old truck has served us for years, yet now has become unreliable. We cannot trust ever, that we will return home sans tow-truck. Not a great way to travel. Mark and I are savers and careful with spending. This is a good thing. We had savings ready for a whoppin’ big down payment and our research was ready to make sure our deal fit our finances. So why is my heart still palpitating like we got terrible news?

Dawny commented after last show:

Wowow. What a beautiful truck miss Laurie. Congrats. Uh. I think. The price. Payment. Not so much. I truly feel your pains there. Ugh. Hopefully the rewards you reap help off set that.

This new purchase has so many rewards. It is a great truck. I’m fortunate to afford it. Mark loves it. It has cool features. Way cooler than old, unreliable. But my mind is FIXATED on the negative. It makes me sick to my stomach to see the huge downtick in our savings. It makes me freak out to have monthly payments again – even though I can afford it in my budget and we accounted for that. It makes me sooooo anxious to park it anywhere, because I’m scared of bumping the new finish or having someone open their door on it. Hmmmmmmmmm, sound familiar?

Jo from the UK also commented after last show:

What a beautiful shiny big ol’ truck!!! Enjoy your new purchase as it was required and not a crazy indulgence

Jo is right! We didn’t just take our savings and bet it on a horserace or go on a cruise we couldn’t afford or buy a timeshare we might regret. We purchased a new car – something we haven’t done for over 12 years to relace a car that’s 20 years old.

My main anxiety is that this is a new way of living. I didn’t worry about the old truck (outside of wondering if I’d actually get to my destination). It was already dinged. It was cheap. It was familiar. Many of its controls no longer functioned. But it had been my truck for decades. I know how to drive it. I know how it feels. I know who I am when I’m driving that truck.

Beautiful new truck scares the daylights out of me. I’m sitting higher in the driver’s seat. It has a backup camera (good thing), but I’m not used to cameras yet. It’s longer and wider in the lane. It has a zillion buttons. It starts without a key (I HATE that). I’m used to taking my key out of the ignition and putting it back in my purse or hiking pack and thence to my special key place in my house. I’m a key loser. And a glasses loser. And a phone loser. etc. etc. I have processes, thanks to my compulsive brain, that helps me keep track and fancy new trucks that act weird do not help me!

It’s Not You, It’s Me!

See BCs, it’s not the truck, it’s ME! I like things to stay the same, because I have built up an illusion of safety around the status quo – even when change is the best possible thing.

Hmmmm, my diet and eating behavior was the same for decades too. I knew just what to do with that. Processes were pretty consistent, even if the next diet miracle method might change. I knew how to feel about myself according to the scale. I knew if I’d done well or not by my diet diary. This whole intuitive eating thing terrified me just like this new truck does.

So many people I’ve met have advised me to write a book about my experience with Compulsive Overeating Diary. They think it would be a hopeful and interesting story. But even after all these years and all of the positives from doing this show and meeting all of you online or off, I still cannot wrap my head around my story being a worthwhile read for anyone since I don’t have any answer and I remained at a higher weight than I first thought. I just can’t help feeling like a failure. It is instinctive. It is status quo. It is the way I’m used to thinking about myself.

Now this admission is probably not a surprise to most of you. But it does still make me sad. This doesn’t mean I think I should go on a diet immediately and become thin so I can have a best seller that would be popular and get me a seat on Oprah. It’s more that I’m trying to understand myself. Like the greatness of the new truck’s features, my lessons from Compulsive Overeating Diary and my experience with intuitive eating and learning to eat as naturally as I could, have so many outstanding benefits. I have listed them for you over the years. You’ve seen my growth and my bravery. But sometimes, I just cannot get out of my rut to appreciate them.

Beauty Doesn’t Always Feel Like It’s Within

Another rut I’m facing is my long hair. My hair was always thick and curly, and my only claim to beauty. I grew up in the 60s and 70s where long hair was a great feature to have and valued. Even bullies who made fun of my hips would say nice things about my hair. Long hair also feels like protection. Easy to hide behind. I loved my hair. But when I hit 40, I thought, ‘Hmmm getting to the age where I’ll have enough grey to dye my hair, and I don’t want to dye all of this thick, long, hair.’ So on a whim, I walked into a beauty parlor off the street and said, ‘cut it.’

It was a terrible haircut that day, and I cried. Luckily, my hair grows fast, so I soon got something more stylish and kept my hair short for years after that. It was much more convenient for washing – especially after bike riding and working out like a fiend in the gym. I felt like I was masquerading as a grown-up too. My long hair was my younger self. Not for middle aged me.

Then came my bike accident. Boy howdy, talk about status-quo change! Couldn’t speak, think, process, figure stuff out. Couldn’t exercise for months. Months of seeing doctors of every type. Off work, then completely retired from work at friggin’ 52 years of age. Blink of an eye, I’m completely different – except…

During this time, my hair grew out.

It was comforting. It was familiar. And it wasn’t as grey as I feared – at least at first. I thought it would be fun to experience my long hair one more time. One more time that turned into several years.

And it is a royal pain to take care of! LOL. My beauty is my bane. It’s like my familiar old truck that’s great, except it doesn’t get you where you need to be. Or my old familiar diet plans, that are great, except they lead me down some compulsive roads that aren’t worth it to me.

My long hair can be very beautiful. After hundreds of dollars and hours of time. And once upon a time, the veil of beauty and comfort it gave me was so very worth it. Once upon a time, I knew who I was on my diet in my old truck and waving my braid around. Today I’m contemplating a new style as I drive my new steed to the mountain to talk about my feelings instead of heading for the chips.

Maybe someday, I’ll have that book showing me with short hair and smiling because the best ending of all would be me, at peace with the status quo of change.

Mark and me just before we head inside to see and hear Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend of ‘The Who’

Mark’s Big Birthday Trip

Mark faced – er celebrated – his big 65 with me in Las Vegas. We went all out and had a great time. And though Mark had fun, I noticed a few of the celebratory events were more geared to the Laurie side of joy, because that is WHO Mark is. He loves to bring joy to others, especially me.

So to that end, Mark agreed that our ‘Big Deal Vegas Outing’ for HIS birthday would be seeing The WHO live at Caesar’s Palace, because The WHO is one of MY top 3 bands. And back in my young, dance all night, concert days my fondest memories were of when I had seen them twice on tour at the Seattle Center Coliseum. Once in 1975 and again, in 1976 and those songs were the soundtrack of my teens. Yikes!

Fast Forward over 40 years and I, who used to swing the long brown hair and skin-tight denim of my g..g..g..generation, was about to swing the long DYED-brown hair and COMFORT-sized denim of my DE-g..g..g..generation.

Check out the proof!

And for grins and giggles, a snippet of the same song from the live WHO concert from 1976.

I so enjoyed this concert, but at the same time….

Laurie FINALLY Understands the dang space baby scene in 2001: a Space Odyssey

That movie is a trip – if you haven’t seen it check it out, but in the end of the movie, one of the main characters experiences weird time shifts from current to old to aged to middle age and back to baby all at the same time.

Check it out…
Here is Roger and Pete from 1976

Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend circa 1975 or 1976

Here they are from 2017

Roger and Pete in Las Vegas, Aug 1, 2017.

And for EXTRA grins and giggles…
Here’s my Fantasy Roger from 1975

This was the first time I saw the Who in 1975. This is how I think of Roger Daltrey – flowing golden curls, tight fringed vest. I was 16 or so.

Time don’t change all…

Notice in the above photos that Pete still holds his guitar in the same way. And I can attest, that Roger STILL has his pipes. Man, can that dude sing! And he is probably one of the last rock frontmen to use a wired mic, as he is renowned for his thrilling and varied mic tricks where he tosses the mic, swings the cord and makes awesome shapes and lassos it in like a rock god cheerleader all while belting high notes like you can’t believe! And HE CAN STILL DO IT!

But time can be trippy…

Time rained down on me and sent me back to being a teen screaming for more with all of the time in the world to make things happen. My vision kept seeing Roger and Pete as they were – as they are – as they were – as they are in a weird other worldly version of time-pong. I too became old, young, old, young, noticing the same chords, same mic tricks, same magic on the stage – like a stereoscope slightly out of focus.

I experienced my entire life bookmarked between those concerts all at once and the tears flowed. Two of The WHO had long since passed. Keith Moon, the drummer died in 1978 and bassist, John Entwistle, right here in Vegas in 2002. John ‘The Ox’ actually passed away at age 57, one year younger than I am now. Roger and Pete actually made no bones about the difference time made to them. They laughed about it. Many oldster quips peppered the evening. They looked different. The energy was a bit different, and yet, there they were, doing as they had done all of those years ago. The remaining members of The WHO could still deliver what they loved to the audience who still loved them for it.

In the glow of the concert hall, I felt all of my victories and defeats slide over me, all of my friends, celebrities I’d followed and family were there and gone, my hopes that vanished, unexpected dreams that came true, all of my physical sizes large and thin, one after another in that concert seat in Vegas. I was scared this might be a heart attack and this was the famous ‘end of life review’. But it was just me, once again on the Magic Bus, realizing that WHO I am is not static, that there were and are, many, many sides to me, and all of them equally Laurie. I don’t need to be perfect, or thin, or the best voice actor in the world. I don’t need thousands of dollars or FB likes. I am a miracle. Mark is a miracle. You, are a miracle. All I need is to be like Roger and toss my mic in the air trusting that somehow, I’ll catch it – and knowing that even if I don’t, this kid will be all right.

xoxoxoxo

This lovely hand-made card was just part of an incredible gift sent by BC Mary S. ‘Be You BRAVELY’ could be our motto and sums up beautifully all I’ve learned doing COD. To express ourselves in truth and not hide because of size or other fears. This is true freedom, whatever our body goals may be.

A Special Gift

BC Mary S. asked if there was a way she could send me something. I told her about my PO Box and then went on with my life in my busy, brain racing way.

Then she let me know a package was on the way.

Wow! I love presents, surprises and seeing what BCs create. So a big WIN-WIN all the way around. I was excited to get my hands on Mary’s gift. And in the video below you can watch as I discover what creative BC Mary S. has made.

See Me Open Mary’s Gift

Wow! Oh Wow!

The True Gift

Below you will see photos of the physical gift details, but the TRUE gift was Mary’s time and care. Mary took time to know me, to know what I like, to create this work of art for me to write in – knowing that I write. This gift of knowing me, of hearing me, was overwhelming and kind.
Mary gave me so much more than a cool book to write in. Mary’s gift told me loud and clear that she, to quote the Who’s Rock Opera, Tommy, “Can See Me, Hear Me”. That I, Laurie, am an individual and not just some disembodied voice in the earbuds. That I matter as a person. And it also shared so much of who Mary is with me too. Her creativity, her humor, her heart.

Through Mary’s kindness we learned a little more about one another. And we found partners in caring.

When we as brave companions reach out to one another, we are giving that gift to each other too. Whether it’s a kind comment of support, a joke to brighten our day, a link that other BCs might enjoy, or just a “Hello”, we, as the BC community are giving the true gift of time and attention that shows us that we truly are not alone.

Photos that show the Loving Detail Mary added

One of my favorite surprises was that Mary added all of these cool affirmations to the back of the envelope, The gift was so thoughtful throughout.

I’m amazed to hold in my hand a hand-made writing journal with my name and most of the things I love referenced within.

Just the first of many surprise flaps and messages. This one contained the “be you BRAVELY” card.

My love of cats are represented by surprising cat and kitten stickers on some of the pages.

My love of bike riding is represented many places throughout my special journal

Even the hand-made book binding celebrates my love of bikes and funky cool!

Mother’s Day is Tough when you are missing your Mom

Spammed by Deals for ‘Mom’

Part of our culture is spending money to celebrate each other and occasions. My inbox has been inundated with deals and last chance offers to honor Mom on her special day. I wish I could join a “Do not remind” list for lost kids who aren’t ready to face up to the fact that they will never again call, post, or sign a card wishing their mom well. My last chance was that Friday I last saw her in the hospital. How carelessly I kissed her cheek and said, “See ya tomorrow, Mommy”.

You just never know.

Last year I used a special to send flowers with free shipping!

Mom sent me a photo last year of the flowers I sent for Mother’s Day. They are sitting on the same table where we ate while I was growing up on the Lazy Susan that passed the peas, the ketchup, the salt…

I also called and chatted a few minutes before she went to dinner with my brother and his family.

This year that f’ing FaceBook posted a HUGE reminder first thing. “It’s MOTHER’S DAY!” wish your mom well.

Reminder: Laurie stay off of Facebook.

I’m not sorry that Mother’s Day exists

I loved honoring my Mom and my Grandma. I loved how excited they would be over my childish gifts and handmade art when I was young. I loved sneaking out with Daddy to find presents and to make “pancakes” to surprise Mom. (The most lumpy, terrible, salty mess, which God bless her, she ate enthusiastically with a smile).

I was glad to have the chance to tell her I loved her.

I was glad to be a kid again.

I never knew that little stuff was little and arguments were pointless,

One of the photos I retrieved off of Mom’s phone was this compilation of my baby pictures that hung in Mom’s bedroom. My brother’s was also there.

When Mom died, all that was left was love.

Now she’s gone.

But the love is here – just mixed with tears.

Maybe next year I’ll tie a card to a balloon and watch it soar.

To all of you who are mothers or still have living mothers, Happy Mother’s Day!

To those of us who are missing our loved ones, here’s a kiss and hug from me.
:::Smooches::::: xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The Santa Anas wreaked absolute havoc in our yard.

Do you ever get tossed by “Devil Winds” in your life?

Here in Southern California, our Santa Ana Devil Winds lately tossed everything pell-mell and pummeled our back yard with leaves, branches and chaos. I felt the same inside. I am absolutely terrified by the sound, the shaking glass of the windows and the looming threat of our neighbor’s untrimmed swaying giant of a tree that moans, snaps and bends over us like Godzilla stalking Tokyo.

The gigantic tree behind our house is terrifying in the wind. It belongs to our neighbor and so we have no control over getting it trimmed.

This is an actual physical threat that disrupts my sleep as our room is located on the second floor, with only a flimsy roof between us and it. Our sturdy house that has withstood earthquakes with ease, feels like a folded paper boat among the swells of a tidal wave. Our cats go crazy, I go crazy, and only Mark remains calm, having lived his entire life with Santa Anas.

Physical Vs. Emotional Fear

Since the terror comes from a physical source, I can take what steps I can. I move into our quest room, which doubles as my sound studio. This feels safer as it is an interior room on the first floor, cocooned by the rest of the house and has the added benefit of sound blankets shielding me from the racket.

Disaster may very well still strike, but taking action has helped my compulsive mind deal with the fear.

Later on I pondered my reaction and realized that emotionally, I also have phantom Santa Anas that pummel my emotions and self-esteem. And I try to do the same as I did with the physical threat. I hole up, safe from the scary world by isolating, distracting with food, diet thoughts or endless hours watching reruns of Survivor.

When is Safe not Safe?

In our fight or flight world, I used to be self-programmed for flight. Avoid people who might make me feel badly, avoid situations where I might fail. Cover up feelings. Don’t admit the wind is out there. Stay safe under the emotional sound blanket provided by Robot Aliens. Cocoon like a swaddled baby using ice-cream as a thumb to suck.

Trouble is, by holing up and denying my emotional fear, I didn’t go out and experience the world or my possible part in it. I always assumed I was no good. I always felt that good things came by luck or via the auspices of others and that bad things were what came from me.

How could I ever learn differently if I never tried?

Fear is real

These days we can experience fear in real life, like I do from the looming tree, we can experience it in movies and VR, we can also experience it in the prison of our mind and habits. Like well done VR, the prison of our mind feels real. Our heart pounds just as hard. Our palms sweat. Our warning bell voices caution or berate us.

How do we overcome and break out?

First, by admitting we feel it. Whoa, there Laurie, that is SCARY. Yep, it is. But which is scarier? Never being you in the world, never getting to experience life? Or letting a feeling flow through you?

Just because you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s permanent.

Second, take one small step toward your goal or wish or dream. Search for an online writing group. Find a singing teacher. Research charities that could use your help. Find a recipe that you would enjoy eating.

Thirdly, imagine the step after that. Signing up for the writing group, contacting the singing teacher, picking the charity that most speaks to you, writing down a shopping list for the recipe. Sit with this for awhile. Is it overwhelming? Is the tree still looming? Imagine the next step every day until it feel familiar. It might take weeks or minutes.

Then take that next step and repeat.

It also works for hard conversations, for inner work, for allowing yourself to feel what’s real for you.

Devil Winds are not easy, inside or out, but you are worth the risk to discover how to fly despite them.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

With some work, thanks to Mark, peace and Zen is restored to our backyard