A Day in My Life

Embracing Boundaries: A Journey to Self-Discovery

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” It’s not your job to like me – it’s mine.”

Byron Katie

By Elizabeth Ouellette

I proudly wore the “people pleaser” badge for most of my life. I truly believed that the more I did for others, the better. It was as if I was born with an instinct to serve—always putting others first, ensuring their happiness took priority over mine. After all, isn’t that what life’s about? Creating harmony, spreading joy, and working together to improve the world? This belief was ingrained in me from a young age, and I became quite the pro. I excelled!

“Take your dog for a walk? Absolutely! When and where… I’ll be there.” (Internal monologue: “I’m allergic, but hey, what are hives between friends?”)

“Help you move this weekend? Sure! I’ve got nothing better to do.” (Inner self: “Wait, WHAT? I’d rather chew glass than spend my weekend carrying boxes.”)

“Take care of your two rats while you’re out of town? Oh, I love a challenge!” (Underneath the “nice” mask: “Stress level = HIGH. What if they die? What if I die? What if my cats eat them?”)

Looking back, I can see how deeply I embraced the role of making others happy—at my own expense. Saying “No” wasn’t rare; it didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t realize I had a choice.

Eventually, the endless demands made me resentful, worn out, and just plain defeated. My affable people-pleaser bubble popped, and I was left deflated and disappointed… mostly in myself.

Boundaries: Where I begin, and you end.  

Boundaries? What Are Those?

“Have you heard of boundaries?” you might ask. Ah, yes, boundaries. I had no idea what those were. My sense of where I ended and others began? Almost non-existent. I had spent so long catering to others that I didn’t know what I needed. And thinking about my own needs first? That just seemed selfish. Crazy, right?

One day, not too long ago, I was apologizing for something that wasn’t my fault, mostly to avoid conflict. It was so stressful my head felt like a pulsating bowling ball, and I was certain my brain would explode all over the carpet. As I marinated in my self-imposed remorse, a voice in my head finally spoke up:

“What are you doing? Stand up for yourself, girlfriend! How much more of this are you going to take before you land yourself in the psych ward?”

Wait… what? Who was this empowered voice interrupting my train of thought? Oh, right—it was me! The strong, independent woman I had buried somewhere deep inside.

But could I trust it? Should I trust it? What if something horrible happened if I actually listened to that voice?

Survival mechanisms start early on.

Compassion for My Inner Child

Like most kids, I learned early on that pleasing others was a surefire way to get love and attention. Turning up the compliance dial became my way of surviving the chaos around me. I stuffed my feelings down, figuring that being good would fix everything. Maybe, just maybe, if I were perfect enough, my dad would stop drinking, and my parents could finally give me what I needed: to feel safe, worthy, and loved.

But then came the moment when I had nothing left to give. I was running on empty, realizing I’d wither away unless I started nourishing myself. Listening to that voice inside became step one in reclaiming my life. Step two? Reacting differently. Instead of jumping to say “yes” immediately, I paused, giving myself time to consider my response.

Now, my go-to replies look a little more like this:

“That sounds fun, but I can’t do Thursday night. Thanks for the invite, though!”

Or:

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

Or, if I’m fast on the draw:

“Rats? Uh, not my favorite creatures. Also, my cats might make snacks of them, and I don’t think any of us want that!”

*Trust your gut instincts.

Trusting Yourself

As adults, we owe it to ourselves to look inward, listen to our gut instincts, and challenge the conditioned responses we’ve been living by. We need to unlearn the idea that self-sacrificing is a requirement for survival. Instead, we need to trust the inner voice waiting patiently to guide us toward a more fulfilling life.

The journey to self-awareness and change isn’t easy, but let me tell you, it’s profoundly freeing. It’s about allowing myself to say “No” when I need to, putting my well-being first, and fully accepting that I am enough—just as I am.

By sharing this story, I hope you’ll see that the patterns you’ve been living by don’t have to define your future. You have that same inner voice waiting to be heard. Trust it, nurture it, and let it guide you to a life where you’re no longer sacrificing yourself for others—but living in alignment with who you truly are.

*Photo from FreePik by: katemangostar

Elizabeth Ouellette is a Certified Rise 2 Realize life coach. Learn more about her here: https://www.rise2realize.com/coaches/elizabeth-ouellette.

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Embracing Anxiety: A Dialogue for Inner Strength

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The unwelcome visitor taps softly at my door. Dread. I know the intruder all too well. “Why now? Why today?” I shudder. And then it starts—hands trembling, heart racing, shallow breathing, uncontrollable ruminating. After two solid years of focused self-discovery and reflection, I thought I had rid myself of episodic panic. But here we go again. WTF.

So, what do I do? My first instinct is to run away and escape through music, meditation, TV, and reading, but the fear, tightness, and contraction lie just beneath the surface, like lava rising in a volcano, ready to erupt.

And then I ground myself and think, “Do the opposite.”

So, I change tactics. Instead of fleeing, I turn and address the beast, “Can we sit down and talk? Ignoring you just makes you more intense. I’m ready to hear you out, to understand why you hold me in a dreadfully tight headlock, making me fight for every breath. I’m tired of fighting. You have my undivided attention.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Time slowly passes, but my anxiety remains quiet, closed off, and unresponsive. Its paralyzing grip icily pins me to the floor. Its silence is deafening. It’s like I don’t matter at all. “But, I do matter,” I remind myself.

“Please speak with me,” I beg. “I yearn to learn, to go deeper, to be informed.”

Nothing.

I sit calmly and flow with the palpitations, becoming one with the uncomfortable sensations I fear will never leave my everyday experience of the world.

“Is this an existential crisis?” I ask. “We live, we die, and no one really knows why. Maybe it would have been better to have never been born than to experience your surprise, overdrawn visits. Is it the need to control every aspect of my life, knowing nothing is really in my control?”

More thoughts interrupt—such shallow roots, torn out in the mildest of storms. I thought I was more enlightened, but was my sense of groundedness an illusion? These painful feet of mine cry out in agony, numb to the touch yet sensitive to a wisp of air. They search for a safe haven, a restorative cure, the strength and courage to hold my weight.

Back to my heart…

I think I hear a whisper. “What is it?” I cry. “Stand strong,” it murmurs. The voice evaporates before I can register its meaning. I think for a long while, and the mind attempts to derail my efforts: “If you stood up for what you believed in, you’d be ridiculed. You were ridiculed….met with scowls, beady eyes, grimaces, and mockery.”

More annoying thoughts rush in, “When God is angry, there is no hope for life on this earth, nor an afterlife without unbearable pain.”

“Hmmmmm, where did that come from?” I wonder. “How do I know this is true? Aren’t these remnants of patterns learned long ago? These are merely thoughts I’ve hung on to keep me safe, in my comfort zone, controlled by the mind.”

“Break free,” I whispered. And then I shout, “BREAK FREE!”

“Autonomy speaks to me. It resonates with my soul. Autonomy means listening to my gut and honoring my real self instead of being influenced by my mind’s admonishments, advice, moods, and energy. As an empath, I feel the energy of the world, and sometimes, everything feels weighty, overwhelming, or just too much, especially if I give without taking care of myself first. Following old patterns may feel safe, but acting without reflection comes at a hefty cost… my happiness.

I thank my anxiety for expressing itself, for opening up and keeping me out of harm’s way. I promise to listen more readily and embrace it and all other emotions (sadness, anger, grief, confusion, disappointment, shame, etc.) instead of habitually burying everything deep down, where wounds fester and refuse to heal.

My heartbeat slows, my breathing is no longer labored, and my chest expands. Ahhh, it heard me. I heard me! So many mysteries lie deep within the psyche; the more I explore, the freer I am. The journey through storms often feels impossibly painful, but once you come out the other side, reality takes on deep hues of vibrant color and excitement. You may even catch a glimpse of fun-loving unicorns and psychedelic rainbows. The view is amazingly rich!

Now, on to autonomy, self-assuredness, and inner strength to hold me upright and move forward on life’s path. Remember, in the end, it does not matter what others think. Stay true to yourself.

And take time to listen.

Stop Clowning Around: How I’m Learning to Sit Down For Myself

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I’d much rather be dressed up as a clown, complete with the red nose, oversized shoes, full face paint, and handing out balloons to kids all day than suffer through the agony of attending an upscale cocktail party. And before you ask, I’m not grappling with social anxiety, nor am I living like a recluse. In fact, I’m quite the extrovert and I thrive at parties. So, what’s the catch, you may wonder? It’s an unexpected culprit – my feet. For the past three decades, they’ve been my relentless tormentors, transforming every step into a torturous journey over hot coals. I even have a wheelchair tucked away in my shed, once used for museum outings or standing-room-only events. Today, it’s in our shed, gathering cobwebs. I’ve simply resorted to dodging situations that demand prolonged standing or involve terrain rougher than a football field. That, my friends, is a whole lot of avoidance.

The Trigger

So, when Executive Life Coach, Arda Ozdemir, approached me about a “LIVE” session showcasing his POWER method, I eagerly accepted the challenge. When he asked about a trigger, a situation causing an emotional reaction, I went straight to the embarrassment I experience when I feel different and out of place, like at fancy cocktail parties where standing for long periods is obligatory. Let’s just say my tolerance for standing is about 10 minutes before my feet start sending SOS signals demanding respite. Between you and me, my size 11 men’s extra-wide athletic shoes are far from a fashion statement at swanky soirees. I feel judged from the moment I shlump in wearing orthopedic Velcro sneakers until I blissfully waltz out the door.

Bar Tables. No Chairs??

I hoped my coaching session would provide some laugh-out-loud revelations on how to comfortably ignore my invisible disability, without attracting undue attention. It’s not about shyness; it’s about how I grapple with formal situations where people are numerous and chairs are as scarce as water in the desert. When I see a room full of tall bar tables, I want to crumble like a cookie in a messy heap on the floor. What’s the right amusing thing to say to tactfully draw attention to my plight? How do I blend in and distract from my unfashionable footwear? Should I wear clown shoes and pretend I just came from entertaining at a kid’s party? These thoughts swirl in my mind between winces of foot pain. And trust me, it’s not just my wild imagination at play – I have X-rays and doctor’s notes to prove it!

You May Be Crazy!

Am I Crazy?

Over the past 30 years, I’ve consulted with all types of doctors, who, at a loss for words, subtly hint that my pain is all in my head, suggesting I was a hypochondriac, a malingerer. While I do appreciate the limelight, it’s the positive kind I prefer – not the type where people stare at your unfashionable shoes and wonder why you are sitting on the floor. When the medical establishment can’t give a tangible diagnosis, it’s akin to having an imaginary unicorn horn protruding from your forehead. You schedule an appointment with a surgeon, who inspects your noggin with a magnifying glass and insists there’s nothing amiss. Meanwhile, you’re convinced you’re sporting a rhino-sized bone growth. Next thing you know, they’re calling in interns to gawk and reaching for straitjackets, convinced you need psychiatric help for your delusion. When authorities question your sanity, self-doubt, and confusion set in. Maybe I am losing my marbles, I pondered. It’s a profoundly isolating experience that leads to questioning one’s own mental health.

Seismic Shift in 20 Minutes
In that 20-minute coaching event with Arda, my perspective underwent a seismic shift where I was able to see the whole situation from a different vantage point. This wasn’t just about feeling different; it was about the perception of weakness and the fear of not being loved for who I am inside – a person with stylin’ orthopedic shoes! As we delved deeper into my psyche, I unearthed childhood memories that were dictating my behaviors and reactions. I was constantly operating under the constraints of a limiting life script!

As we unpacked this personal trauma and released its grip on my heart, my cloudy view of the past became crystal clear. I thought about my son who was born with a progressive nerve disease. I never once perceived him as weak or fragile. I believed he could conquer the world; I wanted him to know he was capable, invincible, and deeply cherished. Throughout his childhood, my message was clear: go out there and embrace your talents because you are worthy, skilled, and unbeatable. And that’s exactly how he lives his life – unshackled and in the moment.

The Epiphany

During our session, I experienced a remarkable epiphany. I realized I had never fully embraced the philosophy of “you can achieve anything you set your mind to” when it came to myself. I had chosen to ignore the podiatric elephant in the room by pretending to fit a singular vision of “normal.” But the truth is, there’s no universal definition of normal – normal is relative, unique to each individual like a fingerprint. Everyone has quirks that make them distinctive. So rather than masking my pain, I could acknowledge it as an intrinsic part of my identity.

Why was I willing to believe this empowering message wholeheartedly for others but not myself? I had loathed standing out in any way, trying to keep my pesky foot problems under wraps. Year after year, I tiptoed cautiously through life, keeping up an act of perfect health, sidestepping events that put my foot troubles front and center. But most likely, people wouldn’t have judged me as harshly as I imagined. Most would probably respond with empathy and understanding.

Solutions

So how can I reshape my future social butterfly wings? When faced with a chairless situation, Arda and I pondered alternative approaches. Instead of desperately seeking a hidden bench or chair to sink into while blinking back tears, I could try a different strategy. Why not use those precious 10 minutes of standing to initiate a lively conversation about the joys of orthopedic shoes and steer us toward seating? Or better yet, make a preemptive call to the event venue to ensure seating options for those of us with limited standing endurance. Who would decline such a reasonable request? And even if they did, who cares? I’m sure most venues come with chairs and I’d easily find someone else eager to engage in a seated tête-à-tête.

Conclusion

In just 20 minutes, Arda guided me through the POWER process, and it revolutionized my perspective on my foot fiasco. I realized you don’t need to remain trapped in old patterns and stories. With an open mind and a willingness to change habitual behaviors, there are always avenues to bring light and joy into your life. It’s not about the shoes…….it’s all about feeling safe, self-confident, and aware.

Learn More About the POWER Method: www.askarda.com

Learn More about CMT: www.cmtausa.org

The Early or Late Conundrum

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Always 10 minutes late? Or do you prefer being 15 minutes early? Does your spouse always have to do yet another task before leaving the house? Are you and your family quarreling endlessly about when to leave for an on-time arrival? First, stop fighting! Then, explore the possible reasoning behind each person’s viewpoint. Get curious, ask questions, and try to understand why people behave as they do. A glimpse into the past is the first step in getting to where you want to go with a smile!

It was a blustery winter afternoon in the San Francisco Bay Area; I was in my car’s passenger seat, waiting impatiently for my driver (my husband) to meet friends for a show in San Jose. As splotches of rain dropped messily on the windshield, I felt anxious about possibly arriving late. It was a Friday night with traffic, slippery highways, road ragers, etc. The plan was to leave at 6:00 pm, but at 6:06 pm, I was still sitting in a parked car in front of my home, thinking, “Wow, how disrespectful. A 6 pm departure is the same in every language, right? Why can’t he just be on time for a change?”

My thoughts screeched to a halt as I saw my husband walking hurriedly toward the car, covering his head with the hood of his rain jacket. But instead of hopping into the car, he flew by me, hauling the garbage bin down our long flag lot driveway. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I fumed.

He was in the driver’s seat eight minutes later, soaking wet, keys in the ignition, and announced playfully, “Buckle up!” At first, he was completely oblivious to my annoyance until he saw my face (after 30 years, he knows the look), which said it all, and so much more. Attempting to lighten the mood, he added, “Don’t worry, we’ll be on time!” “I hope so, ” I whispered while focusing on relaxation, my breath, and the melodic drumming of rain on the windshield.

At that moment, I had a choice on how to react. I could have become angry, ruining the evening, or stayed grounded and let it go. I decided it wasn’t worth the headache, so I let it go. The upside is I didn’t have to bring the garbage down the driveway in the rain!

Can we both be right?

Who is Right?

Before getting into yet another circular argument about his chronic 5–10-minute late performances, I asked Arda, “Don’t you think he’s being selfish and disrespectful? I mean, he did prioritize garbage over me!”

With a hint of a smile, Arda lets me in on a secret, “I used to be three or four minutes late for everything. Do you know why I used to run 3-4 minutes late,” he asked rhetorically. “I never felt as though there were enough minutes in a day to finish what I’d set out to do. I was in a constant state of anxiety about not maximizing my time. My yearning to be efficient pushed me to send out one last email, put away one straggling item, and complete one forgotten task.” 

“Arda, you sound like my husband,” I exclaimed. “I’ve read about people like you. I’m officially pathologizing your behavior, diagnosing you with one more task syndrome,” I joked.  

“Oh, really,” he asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m so glad I finally received a diagnosis! Thank you.”

He added, “Elizabeth, do you really think your husband is thinking, ‘Well, she hasn’t been angry in a while. I will take my sweet time tonight, so she’ll be upset and won’t talk to me all evening. Let’s do this thing!’ “

“No. Of course not,” I replied. “I never really thought about the whys of the matter, focusing instead on how frustrated I felt.”

Arda continues, “From time to time, I still struggle with being on time; I may occasionally run 1-2 minutes late, but I’ve realized this tendency results from my past conditioning. Thanks to my meditation practice and inward journey, I can resist sending that last-minute email or running into the kitchen to get that glass of water.”

“Well, Arda, you and I are exact opposites regarding this debate,” I admit. “I was taught if you were on time, you were already 10 minutes late. So, when I have a meeting, a Zoom client session, or a dinner date, I am almost always 10 minutes early. Why? I’d rather have time to spare than be held up by traffic, fiddle with tech issues, or deal with computer glitches. I want to be early to maintain my composure, get grounded, and appear together.”

What are you really afraid of?

Playing devil’s advocate, Arda asks me to visualize my being 5 minutes late for a scheduled Zoom call. “How do you feel,” he asks. “What are you really afraid of?”

With a pounding heart, I admit, “I feel extremely anxious, ashamed, and afraid my clients will think I’m disorganized, disrespectful, and incompetent.”

Challenging those thoughts, he asks, “Are those thoughts true? Will your clients really think that?”

“No. Well, I don’t really know, but I don’t think so.” I replied. “Now that I think about it, these thoughts belong to me, remnants of past conditioning. I’ve never really tested out the truth behind the fears. Like my dad, I associate tardiness with disorganization and chaos. I still carry those beliefs, which obviously are not serving me well.”

Then Arda threw a doozy at me, “Have you ever considered what a client might think if they ran late? Since you are strict with your time, they may feel awful about being late to one of your client sessions.“

“Hmmmmm,” I ponder. “I never thought of that. It’s a possibility. Adopting different perspectives sure does help understand oneself and others, doesn’t it?” 

Putting the focus back on Arda, I inquire, “So, why did you decide to work on changing your 3-4-minute late tendency?”

He immediately answers, “Because I don’t like the stress you try to avoid.”

“Now we’re talking,” I exclaimed. “We are all so different yet so alike in many ways. Fascinating!”

 Returning to my 5-minute late husband ordeal, I now realize he was not purposely trying to be late or to get me to react. An entirely different story unfolded. Knowing him well and reflecting upon his own past conditioning, he was probably just trying to be ultra-efficient with his time by doing what he’s always done – fitting in that one last task. The first step to understanding the root cause of his behavior was getting curious, asking questions, and understanding the framework within which he operates. It all started to make sense.

I still don’t want to be sitting idle in a car waiting for him to finish up last-minute to-do items, but now that I know why he does it, we can have a calm and collected conversation. “Honey, we need to talk!”

In a future article, I’ll explain how we worked together to reach a  compromise that works for both of us and meets our communal needs. It’s a work in progress, but with a bit of digging and a few invaluable Rise 2 Realize communication tools, the results will astonish.

This article was created from the materials gathered in an Ask Arda podcast featuring Elizabeth and Arda Ozdemir.

Elizabeth is a Certified Rise 2 Realize Life Coach.

Arda Ozdemir is a spiritual mentor, author of the book Getting Unstuck and founder of Rise 2 Realize Life Coaching School and Ask Arda Coaching.

http://www.rise2realize.com

Seeing From the Heart

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I was flagged by Sister Helena in 5th grade; she sent me down the hallway to a dark room, where I sat until a woman instructed me, “Read the eye chart.” I started at the top row and slowly made my way down to the third row, “E, F, P, no, Ummm B, F? no, no E?” The lady told me to stop squinting, making the next letters even harder. “L, uh, T or, wait… E?” “That’s good enough,” she said. “Bring this letter home to your parents. I cringed. What had I done now? I was scared, but did not really know what I’d done wrong. I just want to hug that semi-blind 10-year-old with crow’s feet who’d been stumbling around in an unfocused, blurry world all her short life. Sad face. 🙁

I will never forget the day I put on my first pair of glasses. I was not particularly fond of the frames my dad picked out. Old people have horrible taste. Seriously! I really wanted cool wired-framed “hippy glasses” just like John Lennon’s, but he picked out geeky blue plastic spectacles; I hated them. The lenses were so wide they hung over the thick plastic frame. “This sucks,” I thought. “I’m never going to wear these stupid glasses.” As ordered, I put them on, went outside, and was astonished. OMG! I could see the leaves high in a tree, the eyes and individual feathers of a bird, and people’s faces from across the street. It was a miracle!! Sister Helena… a miracle!

John Lennon Glasses

This childhood memory came waltzing along after a particularly illuminating personal coaching session with my executive life coach, Arda Ozdemir. With my thick-lensed spectacles, I still see pretty well, and the crow’s feet…..well, I still squint so they are even a bigger problem today. But it’s not about the glasses or the crow’s feet anymore.

Through Arda’s teachings, I realize I have been going about my day, blind to choice, possibility, and insight. My mind wears the pants in my psyche, leaving little room for emotion or self-reflection. I had become an automat living day to day without intent, feeling, or direction.

At first, I wondered what I had gotten myself into with these coaching sessions. The first couple of months were tough. I resisted. We talked about sandbags, anxiety, past events. We talked and talked and talked. Arda encouraged me to feel, but I told him I couldn’t. He asked me to close my eyes. I didn’t want to.

I started to trust. His method made sense. One day, I decided I was ready. I finally took that leap of faith and glimpsed within; I found my heart, bound by layer upon layer of imposed belief systems and rules, which were squeezing the life right out of me. I wanted to break free, but shedding my heart bandages was much too scary; I thought they protected me from past wounds. They did not. Personal growth begs openness, careful introspection, and exploration of deep-rooted fears and vulnerabilities.

Through my work with Arda, I’ve learned that change is not always easy or fast-moving, but it is possible and there is hope! Today, I’m more in tune, trusting my gut and paying careful attention to emotional triggers like anger, anxiety, sadness, and guilt. Before reacting, I try to remember to pause, breathe, work through the emotionally-charged situation, and explore the root cause of my reaction.

I have a secret! Did you know we all have the power to see reality in a multitude of different ways? Life is multi-dimensional. When you look at situations from diverse perspectives, it’s like looking through a prism…….every angle offers a unique view, some more appealing than others. I get more curious than angry and look for limiting life patterns when I’m triggered. Once identified, it’s possible to step out of the old ways and into the new by creating alternative pathways.

Looking through a prism

 My heart is healing. With Arda’s guidance, I’ve been able to peel off the strips of gauze constricting my life pulse. Today, I see not only with my eyes (and glasses), but also with my heart, which is fluttering with joy. Seeing with the heart opens new horizons, illuminating a path to a happier, more authentic life.

 Join me. Come along for the journey. Empower yourself with Arda’s teachings and lead a more fulfilling, meaningful life.  It works.

For more information on Rise 2 Realize, please visit: https://www.rise2realize.com/

Read Arda’s book: The Art of Becoming Unstuck – Available on Amazon

Take a workshop! Emotional Mastery
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6 – 7:30 pm Pacific
Where: Zoom, please register to receive the link
Program Fee: $375 ($75 per session)

Now Open for Sign-Ups:

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5 transformative sessions to master your emotions and shift every aspect of your life

WEEK 1: Letting go of Conditioned Reactions
WEEK 2: Connecting with True Inner Power
WEEK 3: Creating Healthy Self-Boundaries
WEEK 4: Honoring Essential Heart Values
WEEK 5: Activating New Rewarding Dynamics

Life With Purpose – Redefine Time

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Flipping through my expired French passport, Gilles made a loud gasping noise, “You haven’t been back to France in 18 years!” “C’mon. It can’t be that long,” I countered. Squinting to see the faded passport stamp, I made out 15/06/2003. “Yikes! Where have I been? What have I done? Where’d the time go?” I wondered. Those years were a blur.

The sands of time had slipped through my fingers in a blink of an eye. I was mortified. Going forward, I was intent on figuring out a way of decelerating time. And I think I’m on to something. But first, the backstory.

The Backstory

In 1989, Gilles and I met in Grenoble, France. I was on a Fulbright scholarship in Grenoble. As an aside, when I told my family and friends I was going to spend a year in Grenoble, many heard Chernobyl (site of the 1986 nuclear accident) and completely freaked out. A year abroad in Grenoble was much easier to swallow.

Gilles was returning from the US, where he’d been employed by IBM in California. We met through my brother, Ray, who essentially set us up on a blind date (a story for another time)! Two years later, we were married in Biviers, France. 2 years after that, our son, Yohan, was born, and 2 years following that celebratory day, I threatened divorce!

We had a very disturbing conversation which went something like this:

G: Elizabeth, want to move to California?

E: Are you high?

G: Seriously, I’ve been talking to colleagues at HP in Palo Alto, and they’ve offered me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (this is a phrase I hear more and more with time).

E: You’re a funny guy!! Fat chance. I love my life here.

G: We can buy a nice house, be close to the ocean, and travel the country! 

How Baywatch Once Again Became One Of The Most Widely Distributed Series
Baywatch Babes

E: Are you freakin’ kidding me? Nope. No way. Negatory. I am not moving. We’ve been here for 7 years and I’m loving my life. Why would I want to go to a place where blond hair, big boobs, short skirts, and facelifts were a thing? (In my defense, as a Vermonter, my only real experience with Californians was the TV show, Baywatch. That’s not me. Although I’d never really spent any time on a farm or in the backwoods, I considered myself a VT country girl!!)

This same dialogue went on for weeks, took different twists and turns, and created a lot of tension:

G: But……..

E. NO!!

G: And……

E: You can’t make me.

G: Why don’t you talk to my friends Jo and Neil.

E: Why don’t you take a flying leap off a cliff?

After 4 to 5 pressure-filled months, Gilles convinced me. I totally caved. Begrudgingly, I moved to the Bay Area with Gilles and Yohan in 1995, and though I rarely admit Gilles is right, he hit it out of the ballpark on this decision. I’m glad we moved.

During our first preview trip, I sheepishly realized the Bay Area is nothing like Bay Watch…dodged that bullet! In fact, people were friendly, the weather was ideal and life seemed bearable.

Blanche

This past November, I went back to France after an 18-year sabbatical. I cannot pinpoint why I avoided France like COVID; it just sort of happened that way. Gilles’ mom, Blanche, has not been in the best of health, so I wanted to spend time with her. Life is super fragile.

Leading up to our European adventure, Gilles encouraged me to reach out to good friends with whom we’d lost contact. Remember, in 1995, PCs were beginning to make their way into the homes of the general public. Up until then, the only way to stay in touch was through costly long-distance phone calls or letter writing. Cell phones were a luxury item, texting came much later and internet searches were done through Yahoo.

Except for an infrequent “Like” on Facebook, notification of a Linked-In anniversary or a kudos for a Strava accomplishment, I’d little to no communication with my French friends. In all honesty, I was afraid to look up certain people in the white pages for fear that they had died. What if my email landed in the hands of the grieving family members or was simply launched into deep chambers of cyberspace, never to be found?  I would never know if it was outright rejection, death, or incorrect contact information.

With a little luck and a lot of research, I found my friends; they were all living and breathing! We made breakfast, lunch,4pm tea, appetizer, and dinner plans (sounds caloric, right? I just decided I no longer cared about calories and chose to eat when I was hungry, not obey random habits or schedules). More difficult still was the 20 years later, 20 years older (not necessarily wiser) problem. How many wrinkles, liver spots, and white hairs can you count? Ugh.

Lastly, we don’t speak a lot of French at home, so my language skills were rusty. I worried I would not be able to hold an in-depth conversation which would have literally killed me. Take away my ability to talk, I flatline.

Flatline - Stigma Free Society
Cause of Death? Silence.

This trip was about diving in headfirst, living with doubt and being spontaneous.

Grenoble (not Chernobyl)

Snow-Covered Alps

Driving into Grenoble, I recognized the snow-covered Alps, the Italian pizzerias next to the frigid Isère, the supermarket, Carrefour, and the eggs of the télépheric slowly gliding their way up and down the hill of the Bastille Fortress. If those reference points had disappeared, I would have had to make an appointment with a memory doctor for creeping dementia.   

I used to walk everywhere, hour after hour, mile after mile, and I knew the name of the streets, the shortcuts through farmers’ fields, and every neighborhood store. I was shocked to realize the local bakeries, butchers, fishmongers were few and far between, and the restaurants had changed hands at least ten times, with new buildings everywhere. I guess that sort of thing is to be expected over a 20-year period.

In addition to my disorientation, I was surprised to see so many food/drink machines in France. When did France become automated?

Want some wine? Just bring your bottle and fill ‘er up!

How about a baguette? After some thought, I cannot figure out how the long baguettes make their way out of that machine?  Maybe it’s a new thing – flexible baguettes!

Feel like eating a pizza? Put your Euros in the slot and they come out piping hot!!

Machine-made pizza!

Reflections

In retrospect, I don’t think I ever really felt French. Being French is much more than language or a French passport. Being French is a way of dressing and thinking. It’s commitment to good food, pleasure, endless nonsensical arguments and a teasing sense of humor. And, as toxically positive Americans can be, the French weigh the scales in the opposite direction.

For example, if you like a meal, you’d say, “That was not bad. Maybe just a little more pepper next time.” Or, if you think someone is nice looking, you’d say, “He/she is not ugly!” Just a cultural thing that was really hard to get used to for a glass half full girl.

Annoyingly, my traitorous American accent was considered, “cute.” Okay, I’ll take the compliment. But, at the time I just did not want to be different. I yearned to fit in.

As for my size 11 athletic shoes, yoga pants and 5’9″inch height (skyscraper tall in France), my being screamed, “American Tourist! Right HERE. Come and see the American Tourist!!”

As we visited friends and family, many of those same fears and inadequacies came roaring back with vengeance. But, I was able to move beyond the discomfort, because those details were no longer important to me. If I was seen as too loud, too tall, too hard to understand, that’s okay. It just did not matter anymore. It’s taken 59 years, but I am more and more comfortable with who I am. Love me for me, or not at all.

As I look back on the 2 weeks we spent in France, I am grateful to have had quality time with Gilles’ mom.

Blanche is the definition of tenacity!

We also reconnected with many good friends, who welcomed us with open arms. The icing on the cake was the time I spent with my good friend Bethany, catching up, visiting Monaco and celebrating her 30th birthday together at the fancy Negresco hotel.

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In Monaco

So, what’s the secret to slowing the perception of time?

First, as I age, I realize that time slows down when my attention is on the now and I prioritize mindfulness.

Secondly, boring daily routine is a time-eating monster, so seeking out novelty, as would a child, is a must. Long-lasting memories are built on deep emotional experiences.

Next, I am starting to limit my time checking email and scrolling through social media channels…..literal time wastes.

By seeking quality over quantity, and focusing on the present moment, I am making a conscious decision on how I spend the seconds, minutes, hours of my life. I know. It sounds good on paper, and no, I don’t have this all down to a perfect science; I am a work in progress, but aren’t we all?  

The Elusive Diagnosis: When Doctors Just Shrug

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Rip Van Winkle. Ring a bell? He’s the fellow who wandered about in the Catskill Mountains only to meet up with a group of ornately-dressed bearded men who uttered not a word. They may not have been a chatty bunch, but the liquor they shared was laden with a sleeping potion that stole 20 years from our friend. According to the story, Old Rip nodded off, only to awaken 20 years later to an unfamiliar world, with which he was no longer acquainted.  This is where my story starts….

Over the past 20 years, I’ve been sleepy…..really sleepy.  I liken my chronic drowsiness to taking sedatives every 4 hours of every day.  I’d sleep 10-12 hours a night and still fall into a coma at some point during the day which necessitated a 60-90 minute nap. Most days, I enjoyed 5-6 functional hours,  thanks to medications used to treat sleep disorders like narcolepsy.

Doctors  postulated theories to explain my sleepiness: chronic fatigue syndrome, depression, chronic pain, anxiety, allergies, sleep apnea, nutritional deficiencies, Lyme disease, medication side effects and idiopathic hypersomnia (sleepiness with no known cause). None of the above seemed to pan out, so I offered my own 2 cents and added a couple of culprits of my own – African Sleeping Sickness, Cancer, Magic Spell (along the lines of what happened to Mr. Winkle). Finally, I took stock out in toothpicks-I had to have some way of keeping my eyes wide open. 

When medical professionals can’t come up with a diagnosis, they often just shrug, apologize, blame the system or the patient, send you to a different specialist so you are no longer their problem, and of course, some dare to share their opinions, many of which are insensitive and insulting.

Looking over my labs, one physician declared, “You look perfect on paper!! HAHAHAHAHA.” Other comments included, but were not limited to, “You probably have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Learn to live with it.” and “You are getting older. You do realize that 55 is not the new 25?!?”  Comments like these just made me angry. I envisioned poking their eyes out or punching them in the throat. I would never have actually done these things because I value my freedom and jail does not look fun and neither does the psychiatric unit of my local hospital.

For years, I rode the waves of acceptance, rejection, frustration, resignation and desperation. Every single test came back “Normal”, which, as I’ve been told by many a doctor “is a good thing.”  I beg to differ- it is not a good thing when you know there is something wrong, but no one can figure it out!

Combined, my symptoms of sleepiness, exercise intolerance, allergy to alcohol, flushing after eating, extreme reactions to environmental allergies in the spring and fall including headaches, sinusitis, hives and vertigo as well as overall body itchiness did not seem to fit any one diagnostic category.

Literally, sick and tired of being sick and tired, I tried to cover up my symptoms and hide my sleepiness. I lived a double life. When I did go out with friends, I held everything together, only to spend days recovering, sleeping my life away.

Several years ago, I happened upon a new doctor in my area specializing in treating mysterious maladies, including chronic fatigue. I eventually picked up the phone and made an appointment. His first availability was in 6 month – 6 months!

Luckily, there was a cancellation. One month and a zillion blood tests later, Sherlock, the mystery-solving doctor felt certain that I had something called, Mast Cell Activation Disorder (MCAD) and gave me large doses of antihistamines. I was skeptical. What a load of rubbish! I stopped seeing him. A waste of money, I told myself.

Nevertheless, the allergy connection made sense to me and when I got really sick this past February, 2018, I called my allergist. I mentioned the MCAD diagnosis, which was met with resistance, disbelief and push back. In her opinion, I did not have the classic symptoms of MCAD and apparently the new doc on the block did not even do the right test to confirm such a claim. I begged and pleaded shamelessly for her to do the right test. I must have looked and sounded pathetic, because she finally agreed.

 

The test for MCAD came back positive. Seriously…it was positive. I felt numb, shocked, but more than anything, I felt vindicated.

What is MCAD?

Mast cells, which are part of the immune system,  release mediators, like histamine, to remove the thing you’re allergic to. In MCAD, mast cells release mediators too frequently and too often and the body is negatively impacted. In other words,  MCAD is caused by hyperactive  mast cell activity.

One treatment option was to receive once-a-month injections of a medication which reduces sensitivity to allergens. The side effects? A possible increased risk of cancer, stroke and heart disease is all. I immediately signed up.

After 4-5 months, I gradually felt less sleepy. Was this due to a placebo effect? I think not.  I definitely feel 60-70% better than I did a year ago and like Rip Van Winkle, I’m rediscovering my world. What’s changed?

-I sleep less. I still take naps, but I awake after 30 minutes feeling refreshed. During my zombie years, I would take 2-2 1/2 hour nap and still feel sleepy and out of it.

-I am able to read again! I don’t fall asleep after 1 page.

-My focus has sharpened. I am no longer in the clouds all day.

-I am more socially active and see friends more regularly.

-I have free time. What a concept!

-I want to explore the world! I thought my travelling days were over. Next stop? India!

-I laugh harder, longer and louder.

-I don’t dread a night out. I look forward to it!

-I’ve even had nights where it is hard to fall sleep – totally new phenomenon.

-I can be near animals without having asthma attacks, though I do keep my Epi pen close at all times.

-I’m slowly starting to exercise again, and the cramps, muscle soreness and rigidity has lessened significantly.

The drug is expensive, but it has breathed life into my soul. The drug has side effects, but now I live  each day more fully and with much more awareness.  The drug is not the miracle cure, but it Has changed my existence. I no longer spend my precious energy fending off heavy eyelids or the need to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. The change is palpable and exciting, but if I stop the monthly injections, I’ll most likely be sleepy all over again.    But, science is advancing rapidly. Before you know it, there will be other medications with fewer side effects so I’m not going to worry about it. I’m going to embrace the moment and be grateful for how I feel today.

If you have a mystery illness, a chronic or progressive disease, symptoms without a cause, do not give up. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, and it might be the day you find an answer or read about a major breakthrough.  Believe in yourself and a few select others and move forward. What do you have to lose?

 

I dedicate this story to my sister, Kathy who lives courageously with an undiagnosed illness. There is hope. Like the Forget-Me-Not below, you too will overcome. I got your back, sis. I love you.

 

12 Compelling Reasons I’m Talking About CMT This September

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Top Twelve Reasons I’m Talking About CMT during Awareness Month

12) Confused Faces-When I tell people my son has Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, I get looks like this:

Let’s stop the nonsense. I’m looking for reactions of recognition, like Dr. House’s below:

11) Dentures? Besides having had too many cavities, crowns, and pulled teeth, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my choppers. Yohan has beautiful teeth and healthy gums, too.  Dr. Howard Henry Tooth discovered this progressive neuromuscular disease at just about the same time as the French neurologists,  Dr.  Charcot, and his disciple,  Pierre Marie. So now we are stuck with Charcot-Marie-Tooth or CMT.

10. Eponyms. Jean-Marie Charcot is known as the father of modern neurology. And, he made sure no one would ever forget his legacy. Why? He was generous enough to share his last name with a host of other diseases he unraveled:

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Here is the short list of the master’s eponyms:

Sounds a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?

9) But, It Could Be SO Much Worse! 

I stop my complaining when I remember that the name COULD have been definitely much worse.  Why? One of my good doctor friends, told me a story he believed to be true: Dr. Nikolaus Friedreich, as in the neuromuscular disease Friedrich’s Ataxia,  also wanted credit for the discovery of CMT, but the message of his discovery did not reach the authorities in time….something to do with an unannounced closing of government offices. So the Grand Poo-Bahs did not receive the important Carrion Pigeon or telegraph messages. Bummer for Nikolaus and hurrah for people with CMT everywhere! We don’t have Charcot-Marie-Tooth Freiderich disease (CMTF), but rather just CMT.

Thank God for small miracles.

8. Let everyone know that CMT does not stand for:

Country Music Television

Childen’s Musical Theater

Certified Massage Therapist

7.  Pronunciation: Give others ways to remember the name, pronounce like:

\(ˌ)shär-ˌkō-mə-ˌrē-ˈtüth-\

or

or

6. . Shark’s Teeth Convention? Once, I wanted to book a large room for a CMTA conference. The short discussion went something like this: “Hi. I need to book a meeting room for the Charcot-Marie-Tooth Association.”. “Okay, let me see. What is the date of your Shark Tooth meeting?

Carcharias_taurus_teeth (1)

Enough said. Ugh.

5. Rent a Costume or Let Your Pets Do The Dirty Work!

If you feel awkward about starting the CMT discussion, you and your animals can dress up like a shark – it’s fun and you are bound to get s few questions! Or, just paint your horse with non-toxic paint. People will ask…..trust me.

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4. Braces – Tell people you wear braces and when they look at your mouth, lift up your pant leg and flash them with your one-of-a-kind ankle-foot orthoses (AFOs).

3. Genius!

Wow your friends with your knowledge of medical jargon. Use CMT-related words like:

peripheral neuropathy, autosomal dominant, hereditary motor and sensory neuropathy, dorsiflexion, plantar flexion, pes cavus, myelin, axons, exome sequencing, orthosis, etc……

They’ll be stunned by your brilliance.

2. Participate! The CMTA makes it fun to celebrate and talk about CMT during CMT awareness month. Check out: www.cmtausa.org

Or just send around the How Much Do You Know About CMT Quiz? 

Click here to take the quiz: https://bestfoot4wardblog.com/2018/09/02/its-cmt-awareness-month-how-much-do-you-know-about-cmt/

Be the expert on questions they can’t answer. Teach a friend and make good use of your never-ending CMT knowledge!

1) Acceptance– Whatever you do, talk about your CMT. Share your experiences with people who might not know about CMT. Most people want to know and CMT Awareness Month provides a platform to share resources and stories to shed light on this progressive neuromuscular disease, its symptoms, and its effects.   Knowledge is power. Go forth and tell someone!

The Ask: Fundraising Tips!

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Idling outside a business in Charlotte, VT, I glance at my brother who is skimming his notes, “Owner’s first name is Phil. Started the company in 1984. My friend, Tina knows Phil’s wife, Patty because their kids ride horses. Got it. ” Then turning to me, with a smirk, he reminds me of my role, “Okay, Let’s go. Remember, you look around the store and buy something, and when you are ready to make your purchase, find me and I’ll introduce you to the person in charge.”  And off we go – Chris with his Cycle 4 CMT flyers and his iPad, and me with my credit card.

 

Chris with chef, Maura O’Sullivan, at Penny Cluse Cafe  – a proud sponsor of the VT Cycle 4 CMT event!

Entering the store, Chris will ask for “Phil” while I  start browsing. Chris does his thing, I do mine and he usually walks away with a sponsorship for the Cycle 4 CMT event. And me? I get in the car with a new shirt, a few gifts, and other amazing VT products, like Maple Syrup (If you don’t like maple, you might as well skip the trip to Vermont-and just give a donation. Everything, and I mean everything has maple in it.)

On a more serious note, asking for charitable contributions, even for a great cause like the CMTA, can feel scary and awkward, but if you are genuinely interested in people and truly believe in your cause, success is definitely attainable.   I’ve asked for a lot of donations over the past 15 years for the CMTA, but watching Chris in action raised has my fundraising IQ considerably. Here are a few takeaways:

 

The More You Know – Chris always does his research before walking into a store or business. He finds the owners’ names, reads about their backgrounds and tries to find a common link, interest, or point of contact. This commonality, once discovered, will definitely make the discussion and ensuing conversation flow more easily.

Description –  Keep it short, make it personal. After finding the key person, who might initially be a bit guarded (as would anyone when approached by 2 determined strangers on a mission), Chris makes and keeps eye contact when explaining the details of the upcoming event: 5th annual Cycle 4 CMT. Nephew has CMT or Charcot-Marie-Tooth, not Country Music Television. A disease that attacks the nerves. Loss of function of the hands, arms, feet, and legs. The event has raised a lot of money for CMT research, our sponsor list is growing every year. Then, he usually shows the person the event website, the list of donors and a few pictures of Yohan). Pictures are worth a thousand words.

Yohan and Uncle Chris

The Story –-As an avid cyclist, skier, hiker born and raised in VT, Chris professes, “I often wish I could spend a day skiing or cycling with Yohan. He used to snowboard, but that ended when he developed CMT-related back problems and his feet, so deformed, could no longer fit in a ski boot.” Remembering the disappointment, I too start to choke up. He continues, ” I wanted to help him, but how? And then it came to me – Why not put on a CMTA fundraiser in support of CMT research, connecting the passion and energy that Vermonters possess for outdoor activities? As a result, the Cycle 4 CMT was born in the summer of 2014.

Empowerment – Chris’ delivery is moving and heartfelt. He speaks with conviction and confidence, empowering others to be part of the movement to end CMT. And it works. Why? People feel a connection to Chris’s story, to Yohan’s journey and to our determination to raise the critical funds needed to get us to clinical trials.  Feeling our great sense of urgency, people want to take action and get involved in something bigger than themselves. Ultimately, giving back unleashes opportunity. potential and a powerful force of good in the world.

 

DSC_82183rd Annual Cycle 4 CMT 2016 Kevin
Kevin is more than a hero – he’s a superhero!

 

Thank You – You can never say it enough. We appreciate everyone involved with the Cycle (and Walk!) 4 CMT event, from sponsors to participants, and donors to volunteers. You are our heroes. It takes a lot of compassionate, kind, generous people to bring about change in the world and we are fortunate to have you by our side, fighting the CMT battle. Your involvement and consideration also provides promise and hope to the Yohans of the world who are deeply moved by the fact that you genuinely care.

 

So, when you approach someone for a donation, be confident and tell your story from the heart. What’s the worst that can happen? For diverse reasons, you may get a “no, thanks.” That’s okay. Don’t take it personally. Just know that you have succeeded in informing one more person about CMT.

 

Now, you have a few fundraising tools, so start a walk, a cycle, a sit-a-thon – whatever. Or, if you can’t do it this year, give to the Cycle 4 CMT.  If you cannot make it, we came up with a new feature: the VIRTUAL walk or Cycle.  Now anyone, anywhere can take part in the Cycle (and Walk!) 4 CMT. For more info: www.cycle4cmt.com.

 

PS: Just an FYI-This year, Chris joined in on the shopping spree. He ended up buying this top from one of our new sponsors – AJ’s Ski and Sports!! : I love visiting our sponsors!

CMT, Carrots and Cones- Rare Diseases to Care About

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February 28 was Rare Disease Day!!

rare disease day

 

Whoop-Dee-Doo!

Is that what you are thinking?  Hold on. Before you get all judgmental on me, let me explain why I believe Rare Disease Day to be a noteworthy event.

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Rare Diseases- The Backstory

Passed by Congress in 1983, the Orphan Disease Act defined a rare disease as a condition that affects less than 200,000 people in the US. This piece of legislation provided incentives, like tax cuts, to encourage pharmaceutical companies to develop medications for rare or orphan diseases.

Here are some Rare Disease Statistics:

-There are over 7000 different types of rare diseases.

-25-30 million people in the United States are living with rare diseases. That’s 1 in 10 Americans.

-It is estimated that 350 million people worldwide suffer from rare diseases.

-80% of rare diseases are genetic in origin.

–95% of rare diseases have not one single FDA approved drug treatment!!

My son, Yohan, has CMT or Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease. Though it is known as an inherited disease, Yohan’s rare disease is the result of a spontaneous genetic mutation.  I guess these things gotta start somewhere. There is currently no way to slow down the progression of CMT.

 

Over the years, Yohan has literally tripped and stumbled, learning to manage this diagnosis and its symptoms. Progressive in nature, CMT gets worse over time. So just when you think you’ve reached status quo, WHAM, something else goes wrong. It’s the nature of the beast – the stuff that life is made of.

 

 

So, having CMT is bad enough, but then life gets even more complex when:

-You trip and break your kneecap.

 

 

 

 

 

-Your tremor is so apparent that a friend tells you that maybe cold turkey is not the way to go.

– Your fingers go rogue, making it impossible to grasp your cell phone before it falls into the port-a-potty. To make matters worse, you panic and attempt to retrieve it. Ewwwwwwww! But, it no longer works. Shit happens!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-You accidentally hit “send” on that that email no one was supposed to see. Monday morning is going to be a bitch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

–You are suddenly diagnosed with a second rare and progressive disease.

Yes. Really.

No one ever made a rule stating that one rare disease per person is the maximum you can have. Some lucky people get none, and others get 2 or even more.

This past summer (2017) Yohan was diagnosed with a second rare disease that has nothing to do with CMT. It’s called Keratoconus (Carrot-A Cone-Us), which also has nothing to do with carrots and a lot to do with cones.

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With Keratoconus, the clear, dome-shaped tissue that covers the eye (cornea) thins and progressively bulges outward into a cone shape. It is also progressive in nature.

THANKFULLY, there is a treatment to slow down the progression. It’s called Corneal Collagen Cross-Linking (CXL) whereby Riboflavin or Vitamin B2 is used to strengthen the cornea. Unfortunately, this procedure is not FDA approved and still in the investigational trial phase. Non-FDA approved means that insurance will not cover the procedure, so I guess we’ll be paying out of pocket.

Rare diseases are expensive.

The shock of the diagnosis is fading, and we are all coming to terms with the news. Compared to foot surgery, this “should” be a breeze. But, I have trained myself never to use the word “should” because it sets unrealistic expectations, ends up undermining me and adds weight to my already present feelings of anxiety, stress, and lack of control in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first reaction to unpleasant or distressing news is to stick my head in the sand, even if I might suffocate. Instead of facing the facts head-on, I hide out for a while and do a lot of self-talking before I can come up for air and move forward. And I’m not even the one who needs the eye surgery!

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Where I Hang Out Most Days

How’s Yohan taking this? Yohan lives in the moment, in the now. And he is resilient. He doesn’t dwell on what might happen at some point in the future. He weighs the pros, the cons, seeks out good counsel and forges ahead. He must have got that quality from his dad as he sure did not learn it from me. On the contrary, I am learning from him….again. Funny how that happens.

Deep inside I know that whatever the future holds, we’ll all be able to handle the outcome. We always do.

But I first better get the sand out of my eyes or I might be undergoing a similar eye procedure!

9 Surefire Ways to Feel More Positive

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Everyone gets down from time to time. When I am not in a good place, I try to think about something positive and uplifting. Sometimes, well okay, often,  my mind brings me to unusual places, which make me laugh. Let me share 9 of my thoughts with you. Do any resonate?

You are a miracle.

  • You are all winners. I often find myself saying, ” I never win anything.” Then, I thought about this statistic: According to scientists, it is estimated that we have a 1 in 400 trillion chance of being born. 1 in 400,000,000,000! So, let’s say that there are currently about 7.5 billion people living on the earth right now.  Let’s create  553 planet earths, each with 7.5 billion people.  Now, you have to randomly choose just 1 person from any of the 553 planets.  That person is you! That’s how incredibly lucky you are to be alive today. Crazy, right? We are all winners in the lottery of life.

 

  • Freedom rocks. There is so much beauty in the world and most of us have the ability to enjoy the air, sky, animals, friends, etc. I often think of those in prison, in solitary confinement or people who live in countries where freedom is severely restricted. Take a minute to take in and appreciate the tiniest of detail in your surroundings. Then celebrate your freedom by dancing, throwing your arms up, kissing a loved one. Why? Because you can.

    Appreciate the beauty all around you.

 

  • Positivity. The way you interpret life events will definitely influence your feelings because thoughts create emotion. As master of your thoughts, you can put a positive spin on whatever happens to you, which will improve how you feel on a regular basis. And, if you end up in a slump, remember that you will not ALWAYS be in that same exact frame of mind. Laughter, joy, and happiness are not far away because feelings are temporary and fleeting. The way you feel will inevitably change.

 

  • I’m a modern girl. I am so happy I live in modern times, and not in the Middle Ages. Life does not look so fun back then. Serfs under the feudal system worked long and hard, doing back-breaking work all day long.  Women spent their days spinning wool and making clothes (seriously, can you see me successfully making clothes on a spindle all day? They’d throw me to the pigs). Only  50% of the people lived until 35, which is the average life expectancy of the time. There was no electricity and families lived in one room huts where 1/3 of the space was fenced off for the animals. The hearth in the middle of the room gave off heat, but the air was always smoke-filled. You get the idea.

    Daily life in the Middle Ages

 

  • Cave Girl? No thanks! I’m also glad I was not born a cave girl. With my horrible vision, I would have been TOAST very early on. By the time I was in 2nd grade, my teacher figured out I was very nearsighted. Today, I am considered legally blind without correction. So when I play out my pre-historic times life, I get this scenario, “That pile of leaves looks fun! One, two, three-JUMP!” Then, in midair, I freeze, “Oh snap! The pile of leaves just made a growling noise that sounds just like a sabretooth cat. Good-bye cruel world.”

Sabertooth Cat

  • The internet is amazing! Information 24/7 at your fingertips. And Skype helps connect to people far away, in the US and way beyond. Today, it’s so much easier to research a topic from home instead of going to the library, using the Dewey Decimal system to find a book on a topic of interest.Now, video call a friend or a relative….just make sure you are wearing clothes to be seen in, at least from the waist up!

 

  • This photo makes me nostalgic, but I prefer the internet any day!
  • Changing your first name is totally legal. Seriously, there are some parents who did not think straight when naming their child. Here are a few very unfortunate names I’ve found while browsing the awesome internet:
  • Jack Goff
  • Dick Smalley
  • Ben Dover
  • Donald Duck
  • Phat Ho
  • Preserved Fish (Thanks, Shirley!)

 

 

 

 

 

And, there are many, many more horrible names out there. Many of these names are found on prison warrants for arrest.  Well, what did you think would happen when giving your kids such embarrassing monikers?

  • Evolution is Cool For example, giants do not exist. Bare with me on this one. I always wonder how many ants I’ve unknowingly killed. To an ant, I am a huge monster, with big, murderous feet. I am so thankful I am not a tiny ant, and even more grateful that giants exist only in folklore. Can you imagine if we had to be worried about being crushed by giants roaming the earth? That would totally suck.  And on that same note, I must confess that I am happy the dinosaurs are extinct. I just could not deal with knowing that at any time, I might come across an enormously fast lizard with little tiny hands reaching out to devour me for lunch.

    Giants are fake.
  • CMT Sucks!  (Joyce Steinkamp, thanks for the lollipop idea!)CMT stands for Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease-a progressive disease of he the peripheral nerves. Know if you have CMT, there is much more information, research, progress and awareness of this very common, but rare disease than ever before in history. And our researchers are working day and night to provide treatments to stop CMT. Bottom line – hope is real. But, believing without acting will not get us over the goal line.  So, if you really want to feel good about yourself, get involved in a charitable cause like the CMTA by volunteering, donating, publicizing, joining igive.com or amazonsmile.com (choose CMTA as your charity of choice). Be part of the solution – cmtausa.org

Jeana Sweeney, this image is for you. xoxo

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home For the Holidays – The Story of a True Life Adoption

Best Life Ever4 Comments

Her parents passed all the tests with flying colors and were deemed to be fit and loving. The arrival date was only 2 weeks away – just 2 weeks! So little time to prepare for the new little one  – and right before the holidays, too – the best Christmas present ever!

I melted when I first laid eyes upon her – cute, energetic, friendly, outgoing and smart. But, she didn’t really look Tawainese. In fact, she did not look Asian….at all!  First of all, she was black and had huge brown eyes.  She understood a few English words and was not the least bit shy. I wondered who her parents were and how she came to this world. Whatever. In the end, it didn’t matter – she was now in a stable home with grateful and loving parents, relatives and friends.

Just last week, I offered to take her to the park for the morning. Now, it’s been a long while since I’ve had to care for a youngster, and I must admit feeling a tad bit nervous. With her bag chocked full of snacks, drinks, toys, etc, we headed to the playground. I lifted her into the back seat, strapped her in, and heard not a peep the entire ride.

 

“We are here!” I sang merrily. Once out of the car, she could not wait to join her friends in the yard. In fact, she was so excited, she darted for the playground, practically pulling my arm out of its socket. Once in the fenced-off area, I let go and she ran and played for well over an hour, pausing only to take a sip of water here and there. We had so much fun!!

 

Here is a picture of Shelby:

Shelby

Isn’t she adorable?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shelby – Learning To Use the Equipment!