About Me


 The greatest thing we can do is to show up for our lives and not be ashamed.

 -Anne Lamott


I'm a creature of the word, learning to tell my honest story.

I offer it here because telling stories is the road back home.

Motherhood is not a biological designation
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I sweat out my crazies

"If you don't take care of your body- the greatest machine you'll ever be given- where will you live?"
-my yoga teacher 


Tomorrow will mark one full month-six days a week- of me taking hot yoga classes.

I composed a song about my yoga class one morning. Please, try singing this aloud to the tune of O Holy Night, and really let yourself wail on those high notes:

O holy CRAP.
This class just kicked my a-ah-asss.
It is so hot in this room,
I sweated balls.

I believe this little ditty about sums it up for me. In fact, I was so proud of my ditty, that I called three or four friends, none of whom answered, and left them this song on their answering machines, belting at the top of my ujjayi breath-filled lungs.

I almost fainted one morning from the sweat and the heat- the class should be called Last Man Standing. It reminded me of my youth in the charismatic church, where all the eager Christian beavers would line up along the front of the auditorium, get prayed for, and then fall out; the day I wrote my song, everybody was dropping like sweaty flies.

I wake up at 5 am to work out.

I've never woken up at 5 am in my life. But I am that desperate.
My goals in life are pretty basic right now: try to stay sane.

All energy I have left over after taking care of my husband and kids, goes to yoga (which is why I am not writing as often- my writing time is given over to workout time).

But it's working, people. I am working. it. out.

I can feel things shifting in my head. I have buffers. Instead of that feeling like all the walls in my head have caved inward and all my thoughts and feelings are jumbled about on the floor of my mind, there's some order going on inside that thar noggin. 

I get home from my workout at 6:45 a.m, Michael passes me the baton, drives off to work, and I head to the bathroom to strip off my clothes and take a shower. After about a week of peeling off stinking, dripping wet layers, I realized that wearing unds (thanks new friend Abby for this cool slang) was pointless. Why volunteer for one extra layer of limp, sweaty clothing? So, the next day, I went commando...and spent all of class worrying that everyone could smell my sweaty nether-regions. Happy baby, anybody?

So, the next morning at 5 am, I got this brilliant idea to wipe myself down with rubbing alcohol, as I used to do in the ob-gyn's office before doing a pregnant squat over the toilet and peeing in a cup.  I figured, if the doctor asked me to use three rubbing alcohol wipes before peeing in a cup, I can pour some straight rubbing alcohol on a piece of toilet paper and get the same effect.

I think the concentration of alcohol might be slightly diluted on the wipes; the burning sensation lasted till I got to class.

The day before, I was the girl with stank nethers. Today, I am the girl who gets drunk before her 5:30 am class, and reaks of alcohol while wobbling around in Warrior II.

It's fine.  Like I said, my goal is to stay sane. At this point in the game, I got nothing to prove.


I've also stopped eating gluten. And sugar. And drinking coffee (for the most part). I drink earl grey tea, or green tea with pomegranate; I even treated myself to Aveda's The'. (it's still the word TEA. I guess they dressed up the spelling to justify the price?)

My new friend Abby who calls underwear unds, and a vagina a giney (she's got two girls. Kyrie calls her giney a winkie because I have two older boys...but now, with Abby's help, I have the language I need to get my girl through puberty), is also a doula and am aspiring naturopath, and she's the one who has given me suggestions for dietary changes I could make to try and fight depression. She's the one who suggested motherwort, although I've since moved on from the wort to 5-HTP (which is a-mazing).  

I'm moving towards going dairy-free and pseudo-paleo as well.  I mentioned before that Stage Three of my depression (which I think I am in) is the one where the will to fight returns and you have moving parts in your life to adjust.

I've finally got some moving parts (and I don't just mean my newfound flexibility): I can do yoga every morning if I have the balls to get up at 5 a.m., I can change my diet, I can hire a mother's helper one day a week to fold my laundry and give me space to write, we've connected with a church and become part of a home group...I think these are the things that are making the biggest difference. I have the mental strength, just enough of it, to fit these pieces into my buffer walls.

And I can't really say enough about how much it helps to have your encouragement, your "me too's," your prayers...just knowing I can write these things down and someone cares enough to read them makes me feel less alone.

But I must warn you, if you come to visit, I will make you attend 5:30 am hot yoga with me, and I will hide all your unds.




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Reader Comments (2)

I can feel the shifting that's happening in your head, sister. Your spirit is so much lighter. You are more smiley, focused, and present. Keep on keepin' on. It's working :-)

October 17, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterAbby

I'm totally down for 5:30am hot yoga as long as I'm not preggo :) My prediction: yoga - unds = serious giney weggies ;) Your gonna have to convince me of that one! It sounds like I need to come to Colorado so you can whip my lazy but into shape. You go girl!

October 17, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterOlivia

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