CROOKED FEET AND BAD KNEES

Posted on February 18, 2015 by atlonglastheard

Two of my last three posts have been about, basically, being active and moving my body, and how important it is to me. It’s why I am challenging myself to do yoga for 28 days in a row. What is amazing is that I am able to do all that I do now. I was born with metatarsus adductus, which is commonly known as pigeon toe or in-toeing. Apparently, it is quite common, and most cases are mild. Mine, however, was extreme. The causes of it are still unknown but, in my case, while in my mother’s womb, my feet bent and stayed that way. My feet were so crooked and turned in that starting somewhere around 8 months, I had to wear a polio brace, the kind that had the metal bar from knee to knee. I searched and searched for a picture of this type of brace but I was unable to find one. So, there I was, an 8 month old baby, a quite active, climb-out-of-my-playpen kind of baby, wearing a brace on my little legs to try to straighten out my feet. I started walking at 9 months, and I must have been a sight. I clearly liked walking from a very early age and didn’t let the fact that I was in a brace keep me from it. The picture below is me on my first birthday. You can see the angle of my left foot, even after 4 months of being in a brace.

At some point, which I of course do not remember and neither does my mother, the polio bar brace was replaced with a brace similar to this one…

This was as close as I could find to what I wore. For five years! I seem to remember that the metal bars went down both sides of my legs, but I could be wrong about that. All I do remember for sure is how much I hated, despised is probably a better word, wearing it. And I had to wear it 24 hours a day. The only time I didn’t have to have my braces on was bath time and when my feet grew and I had to get new shoes attached to the metal bars. Other than those two times, I always had them on. I wore them through kindergarten. Thankfully, by the time I went to first grade I was finished with them.

As if this wasn’t enough, when I was 11, I had a growth spurt that messed my knees up, pretty much, for life. I grew too tall, too fast, and this caused my knee caps to slide and for fluid to accumulate on my knees. Luckily, it was never enough that I had to have a giant needle stuck into my knee to remove it. When it first happened, I was splinted, told to take aspirin however many times a day (don’t remember exactly) and given my first pair of crutches. And from then on, I was on crutches at some point every single year until I was 19 years old. I ‘broke’ my splint within a week. I couldn’t stand having my leg immobilized and each day would practice bending my splint until it broke. Of course, all that meant was I had to go back to the hospital and get another one.

So, like I said, at some point in each year from 1971 to 1979, my knees would flare up, and back to the orthopedic doctor we would go. If I remember correctly, I only had a splint the first time, but I would have to use crutches for a few weeks at a time until the pain went away and I could put my full weight on it again. And I took so much aspirin that it stopped working for me. I then switched to Tylenol when that came on the market, until that stopped working, too. Now, ibuprofen is the only pain reliever that (sort of) works for me. Actually, thinking about it now, that first growth spurt was big, but I continued to grow until I was about 20 or 21, which is probably why I had problems all through my teens.

When I was 17, I was sitting on the back of a metal folding chair and fell over backwards and when I hit the ground, my foot somehow hit the seat of the chair and my heel broke. You can’t really cast a heel, but you can use crutches. I had permanent calluses on my hands and under my arms from using them so often. Then, when I was almost 19, the night before I was leaving to spend the summer in Wildwood, New Jersey, I stepped on a rake handle wearing Dr. Scholls sandals and broke three bones in my right foot. That necessitated a trip into Atlanta (at the time my parents were living in Canton and there was no orthopedic doc on staff at the hospital) to get x-rays and a soft cast. I did make my flight the next morning, on crutches, though that made it impossible to get a job as a cocktail waitress, since I couldn’t tell potential employers exactly how long I would be on said crutches. Instead, I worked in a sea shell shop on the Boardwalk.

Though I continued to have periodic problems with my knees, especially my right one, I more or less stayed off of crutches until my later 30s. I was in Barcelona and tripped crossing the street and tore cartilage in my knee. Not, of course, my ‘bad’ right knee, but my left knee. While in Spain, it was misdiagnosed as severe tendonitis. I stayed off of it and by the time I got back to the States a month later, it seemed fine. Six months later, though, it started clicking. Long story short, I had to have surgery, where 30% of my meniscus was removed, and fun, fun, fun, I got to be on crutches yet again. When I went to physical therapy after my surgery and told the story of the history of my knees, my therapist was astounded that it had taken that long for me to have had a serious problem. Well, really, if I wouldn’t have tripped and wrecked my better knee…

I do know that yoga has helped my knees over the last 3 1/2 years. And while there are certain poses that I will most likely never be able to do, that’s okay. At least I am still able to walk, and I am happy to say I have not been on crutches since 1997, and I am doing my best to keep it that way.

A DIVER IS BORN

Posted on February 15, 2015 by atlonglastheard

When I was young I was always climbing trees, swinging on the monkey bars and always, always upside down in some fashion or another. I taught myself to do front handsprings when I was about 7 or 8. I was always able to walk on my hands and stand on my head. So, naturally, I became a gymnast. The only problem was I was tall. And I developed early, so I definitely did not have a typical gymnast’s body. I could do floor and beam, because even with my height, it wasn’t too much of a problem. Vault was a little more challenging because of my long legs, but I was able to do it. I didn’t like it, but I could do it. The uneven parallel bars were another story entirely. Although I was strong, there was simply too much of me and I’d go swinging off the bars and land on my head. I can’t tell you how many times this happened. (Actually, this probably explains a lot about me!) The other ‘problem’ I experienced was an incredibly flexible back and an inability to control just how much I could bend backwards. Not only was I able I touch my feet to my head, both from the floor or on my hands, I could lean my head back even more and put my feet over my eyes. My back basically bent in half! While it sounds great to be so flexible, I also had trouble when attempting back handsprings and back flips. When you do a back handspring, you are supposed to take up approximately your body’s length on the floor. For example, if you were, say 5’5″ tall, when you go backwards, your hands should land about 3′ behind you and as your body continues back and your feet flip over, you are supposed to land about 65″ from where you started. Not me! I would go straight up and straight down and my hands would land in front of my feet. What this mostly meant was I landed on my head more times than I can tell you. It was a little better with back flips because my hands were not involved. However, this was not the proper way to do it and I would always be marked off at gymnastic meets because of it. Something had to change.

I was already on a swim team. Honestly, the only reason I ever joined the swim team to begin with was because there was a boy on the team that I liked and this was a way to spend time with him. What can I say? I was 13 years old. Now, this swim team was a summer team and not my high school team, and this particular boy went to a different high school because our neighborhood was split. Still, I decided to join my high school team, as well. Then I discovered the team had only one girl who was a diver. Ding, ding, ding! The bell went off in my head…become a diver…how hard can it be?!? So I told my mother I wanted to dive. I do not remember how this came about, but I suddenly had a private diving coach, Billy Ray Schmidt. At the time, he was the coach at The Westminster Schools in Atlanta. I would be taken several days a week to practice. This was 1974. I was 14 years old, and that first year I placed 12th in Georgia for the high school championships. I had been diving for about 3 months at this point. My high school got 1st place, overall. It is not as good as it sounds; still, I had found my new passion.

While diving at Westminster, one of girls I dove with was Jenny Chandler, who went on to take the gold medal for 3 meter springboard at the Montreal Olympics in 1976. She was so good and an inspiration to watch at practice. I think I only dove with Billy Ray for about six months, or so. Then I got a new coach, Carlos de Cubas, the coach at Georgia Tech. I had diving practice every day of the year, and twice a day in the summer. I loved Carlos, and he really changed the way I dove, and he made me into the really good diver I eventually became. He was a gold medal winner from the Olympics in, I think, 1936 (I could be wrong about the year.) He was originally from Cuba and had a really thick accent. It took a while for me to even be able to understand what he was telling me.

In 1976 I had been diving for 2 years, and I had a decision to make…should I train for the Olympics in 1980? Since I came very late to the sport,and since I wanted a life outside of diving, and really, was I actually good enough to compete at the Olympics, I ultimately decided not to train with that goal in mind. I continued to dive through high school and then because I had two cousins who swam at Florida and for one of the same reasons I chose not to train for the Olympics, that being I wanted a life that consisted of more than just classes and practice, I made the decision not to dive in college. Oh, I dove intramural, and beat everyone, the boys and the girls, but I never competed again after high school. In the end, 1980 was the year the USA boycotted the Olympics in Moscow, and boy was I glad I had made the decision I did back in ’76.

It has been years, many, many years since I’ve even been on a diving board. I like to think I could still do some of the dives I used to. Realistically, though, I’m pretty sure I can’t. As for gymnastics, I can still stand on my head, and though I am relatively flexible, I am nothing like I used to be.

The pictures below are from a meet in the summer of 1975 when I was 15:

Reverse dive, layout position

Front 1 1/2 somersault, pike position

Inward dive, pike position

Front dive 1 1/2 twist, layout position

Inward 1 1/2 somersault, tucked position

I won first place.

BEING KIND COSTS NOTHING

Posted on February 11, 2015 by atlonglastheard

Today’s post is short…

My mother always said it was far easier to be nice or kind than it was to be mean or unkind. I didn’t really believe this when I was a teenager. I had brothers who were always mean to me and when ignoring them did not work, I thought being mean back was the best solution to the problem. It wasn’t. As an adult, I can understand that being kind is the only way to go through life. A smile, a compliment, a simple ‘good morning,’ though all seemingly small gestures, may make the difference between a good day or a rotten day for someone, whether a friend or a stranger. Really, how difficult is it to smile at each person you meet? Even if you are feeling less than great yourself, the very act of being kin to someone else will make you feel better. Since it is impossible to tell what people are going through or dealing with simply by looking at them, kindness is always the best bet. We’ve all heard stories about someone who had made a decision to end his or her life, but because of the kindness that a friend, or even a complete stranger showed, perhaps a smile that was directed at them, they felt a little less alone and decided that, maybe, just maybe, life was worth sticking around for, after all. We have also all seen the bumper sticker MEAN PEOPLE SUCK, and while it is true, why must we put out such a negative thought into the world? Why not have a bumper sticker that says, KIND PEOPLE RULE or ALWAYS CHOOSE KINDNESS or KINDNESS IS THE WAY?

The quote below, stolen from a friend’s Facebook wall, pretty much sums it up:

A YOGA CHALLENGE

Posted on February 8, 2015 by atlonglastheard

The yoga studio I most go to when not doing beach yoga is Mosaic. Starting on the 21st of this month, they are beginning a 30-Day Challenge, which includes doing yoga for 30 days, eating clean, and meditating. I thought I would participate, but after looking at the studio’s class schedule, I realized there was no way to make it work for me. So I decided to make my own challenge. I started on February 1, which makes today the eighth day of my challenge. My usual yoga schedule for the last year or so has been beach yoga on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays, with the occasional class at Mosaic when it rained.

I love to walk, and as I’ve talked about before, pre-attack, I used to walk 60-90 miles each week. The reason I got so much mileage is living on Coronado Island and walking everywhere. My actual workout walk would be anywhere from 6-10 miles, depending on the day. As I have also mentioned before, after my attack, my walking went to zero miles per week. I could barely even walk to the grocery store in the middle of the day. Eventually I was able to get back to walking, but only after the sun came up. I have never gotten back to the kind of miles I used to put in. That is partly because of not walking in the dark and partly because I’ve been really busy with work and don’t feel like I can take the time to walk when I need to be working. In any case, my schedule of late has been walk on Mondays, walk sometimes early with my friend Mike on Tuesdays, bike to beach yoga on Tuesdays at 8:30a, Wednesdays sometimes walk, but usually this would be my off day, Thursdays bike to beach yoga at 8a, Fridays walk, Saturdays walk and Sundays walk to beach yoga at 9:30. It may sound like a lot, but, really, it isn’t. I need to move my body. A lot.

For the month of January, I decided to drink no alcohol, eat clean, cut out sugar and processed carbs. Though I was not 100% successful, I’d say I was better than 90% ‘good.’ I was actually in bars 3 different times during the month and drank only water. That wasn’t as hard as it sounds when one of the bars I was in has drinks that are $15.50 without tax and tip! Anyway, I chose to begin the year with a cleanse of sorts because I have yet to lose the weight gained after my attack. And while it is not much, at most 10-15 pounds, and since I am tall and was thin to begin with, it’s not like I look bad; I am just not comfortable, and so decided that 2015 is the year to make it happen. I have to say the biggest benefit of not eating sugar, which is what alcohol becomes, is very few hot flashes, and even the ones I’ve had have been tiny and not disruptive. That alone should be enough to keep me from ever drinking again! And to be honest, I did have one, and only one, glass of champagne on the 31st, so I did not remain alcohol-free the entire month. I haven’t had anything since though, so that must count for something.

For February, with the idea planted in my brain to do yoga for 30 days, I decided to challenge myself to do it every day this month. Saturday was an easy choice: go back to doing the ashtanga class I used to do in Pacific Beach. Now I just needed to fill Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The obvious choice for this was to do Bikram yoga at the studio here on the island. Best of all, they have a 6a class on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Perfect! (I did a class there almost 2 years ago, and though I didn’t hate it, I had never gone back. It really was difficult with hot flashes and made them worse. I couldn’t see torturing myself even more so.) I got a Groupon for $99 of 2 months unlimited yoga. So, I had my schedule down: M,W,F Bikram, T, Th, Su, beach yoga and Sa ashtanga in Pacific Beach. I figured the biggest challenge would be M,W,F, and oh, was I right.

I did okay on my first Bikram class last Monday. Yes, I sweated buckets, but, thankfully, the heat did not give me hot flashes (must be the no sugar.) Also, since I am a year more into my practice of yoga in general, I am simply stronger and better able to do the poses. So, my first class was okay. Since beach yoga is never a problem, Tuesday’s class was uneventful. I did choose to walk to it, just to get some walking in. Wednesday’s Bikram class had me wondering what I was thinking making this challenge for myself. I was so sore. I have been ‘Epsom salting’ myself on a nightly basis, which I’m sure helps, but I was really hurting. I went to bed at 8:30p and slept 9 hours. I also took ibuprofen in the middle of the night and woke up feeling much better. Thursday beach yoga was good, as usual. I wasn’t so much dreading Friday’s Bikram class as I was looking forward to Saturday and Sunday, which meant no Bikram. Talk about a vacation!

Yesterday’s ashtanga class, which I had not been to since June, was awesome. It is a pretty challenging class, but I love it. This class is outside, on the grass above the ocean, not on the actual beach. Steve Hubbard is the instructor and this class has grown from just a few at the beginning 7 or 8 years ago to over 200 people today. There were between 230 and 250 yogis at yesterday’s class! And today’s beach class was also wonderful.

Tomorrow it is back to Bikram at 6a. I think, maybe, hopefully, the first week was the hardest. While I cannot imagine ever loving Bikram the way I love doing yoga on the beach or my class in Pacific Beach, stranger things have happened. I will continue to keep my mind open and enjoy the challenge I set for myself.

The picture is from my Saturday class, taught by the wonderful Steve Hubbard. I took this shot from Steve’s Facebook page. You sure can’t beat the location!

HOW ATTACHED ARE YOU?

Posted on February 2, 2015 by atlonglastheard

THE FIVE LEVELS OF ATTACHMENT: Toltec Wisdom for the Modern World is a wonderful book by don Miguel Ruiz Jr.

From the dust jacket: “Building on the principles found in his father’s bestselling book THE FOUR AGREEMENTS, don Miguel Ruiz Jr. invites us to gauge how attached we are to our own point of view. In THE FIVE LEVELS OF ATTACHMENT, he will help you gain awareness of the agreements you have been implicitly making all these years that shape your reality and affect your future and show you how to release the attachments which no longer reflect who you really are.

This method is twenty years in the making. When don Miguel Ruiz Jr. began his apprenticeship into his family’s Toltec tradition, he was just fourteen years old. His first task was translating his grandmother’s talk from Spanish into English. One day, as he struggled to keep up with her, she asked him: Are you using knowledge, or is knowledge using you?

Finding the answer to this question would shape the destiny of his life. In this groundbreaking work, Ruiz explains each of the Five Levels of Attachment in detail and shows that as our level of attachment to a belief or idea increases, ‘who we are’ becomes directly linked to ‘what we know.’

Our attachment to beliefs — our own and the beliefs of others — manifests as a mask we don’t realize we can take off. But with don Miguel Ruiz’s help, and some Toltec wisdom along the way, we can return to our True, Authentic Selves, unhindered by judgement and free to pursue our true life’s calling.”

The foreword of the book was written by the author’s father, don Miguel Ruiz. In it he says, ” My son has spent a great portion of his life silently rebelling against the way other people live, creating many judgements and opinions. He did not realize that in doing so, he was becoming attached to those judgements and opinions, and his emotional reactions were becoming increasingly intense. One day he had a conversation with his grandmother — a conversation that would forever change his life. During this conversation, his grandmother, a faith healer, helped him understand the attachment she had to the rituals she used for healing her patients. My son saw his own reflection in this interaction with his grandmother and was able to clearly see all of his attachments. This is how his rebellion came to an end. Although it took him a couple of years to completely assimilate the experience into his life, he finally decided to share it in a book. THE FIVE LEVELS OF ATTACHMENT is that book, and it is destined to transform the lives of millions of readers.”

And in the author’s words…”In this book, I will teach you the Five Levels of Attachment. The are guideposts for gauging how attached you are to your own point of view, as well as how open you are to other opinions and possibilities. It is my hope that you will engage in this book to measure how attached you are to the various beliefs and ideas in your life that create your reality, your Personal Dream, and contribute to our collective reality and the Dream of the Planet. Only with this deeper awareness of yourself are you truly free to pursue your passion and experience your full potential. The choice is up to you!”

EAST GERMANY

Posted on January 28, 2015 by atlonglastheard

When I lived in Hamburg in 1987, there was West Germany and East Germany. This was a little over 2 years before the wall came down.

This is a little hard to read, probably because we had to write on the wall in pencil! It says: The choice is obvious… if you have a choice. Jan & Tamerie USA

I Did East & West, ’87

With my friends, Dan and David at Checkpoint Charlie.

The following came from my journal, written on 2 November 1987, after spending Halloween weekend in Berlin and returning to Hamburg: “Had trouble getting to sleep Friday night. And then was awakened by the phone just as I was drifting off. I was pissed. I got up at 5:30, so I had a big 3 hours of sleep. I guess I was just excited about the trip. We got to the station okay and with plenty of time. Once we got on the train, Dan and David go into a smoking car. At first we thought maybe the lady in there did not smoke, but we soon found out differently. So we decided to move. Dan and I went to find an empty non-smoking car. We found one and he told me to hurry and go get Jan and David before more people got on the train. So I go running down the car and as I got to the car that they were in, I slipped and fell flat on my back, my ass, actually. It hurt so bad. Luckily, I wasn’t hurt worse. I could have cracked my head open. It was really funny to see, I’m sure. One minute I’m upright and the next, nowhere to be seen, unless you happen to be looking at the floor. Anyway, we changed cars. It was a 4 hour and 15 minute ride. Not bad. We got into Berlin at !2:15. We went straight into East Berlin, so we had to carry our luggage with us. What a bummer. But before we went through the passport check, we had to wait in line for at least an hour. Dan and David went through. Then I did. Jan, however, was not allowed to pass through. The 3 of us were already on the other side and didn’t know what was going on. No one would tell us anything. It was really scary. After about 45 minutes they finally allowed Jan to pass through. It turned out the reason they held he back was her passport. They thought it was fake, and because her name is German, they got really mean. They weren’t telling her anything either when they were holding her. She has got to get a new passport. She had a little bit of trouble coming back last night also. They checked it over many times and even asked her about it before they said it was okay.

East Germany was quite an experience. I’m sure glad I’m not from there. The countryside was so desolate in places. Barbed wire fences were everywhere. And because it was Saturday afternoon when we finally were walking around in the “East,” no stores, or anything for that matter, were open. There really weren’t any stores to speak of though. We went up in this one church tower, which was pretty neat. We mostly just walked around and took pictures. We ended up eating dinner in East Berlin. We each got something different and passed it all around. It was pretty good. The law was you had to be out of East Berlin by 8 o’clock, so we left after dinner.

When we first arrived in East Berlin, we had to buy East German Marks, which was the only money accepted in East Germany, and accepted no place else in the world. In theory, we were supposed to spend all we changed, and not take any with us. At dinner, we left huge tips, but I kept my extra money. I still have it today. Also, in East Berlin, you had to pay to use a public bathroom (and I use the term loosely here) and the toilet paper was, literally, just like sandpaper. In fact, sandpaper might be softer. Not a pleasant experience.

Though not quite as difficult as getting into East Berlin had been, when we left we still had to stand in all kinds of lines. By the time we finally got back to the West, we were freezing. (It was the end of October in Germany, after all.) Dan decided we should save money and take the subway to the center of town to look for a hotel. We did that but all we found were big, expensive ones. We finally found a tourist office and they made us a reservation at a pension. I wasn’t quite sure what that was since I had never stayed in one before. It turned out to be really nice. David called the room that Dan and I ended up sharing “The Emperor’s Suite” and for good reason. It was at least twice the size of their room. It was quite amusing. Anyway, the room had 2 single beds pushed together and another single bed. It had a sitting area with a love seat and chairs. We had a sink. And there was even a terrace with French Doors.

It was about 9:45 by the time we got all settled in. The plan was to nap for a couple of hours and then hit the town. We were in West Berlin and it was Halloween night, so how could we not take advantage of that? Well, it didn’t quite go according to plans. Once we started to relax, no one felt much like going back out into the cold, so we talked and eventually fell asleep.

On Sunday morning, after breakfast, we went to the Wall. How spooky! It was an awful feeling, knowing how free we are and ten feet away on the other side of this cement fortress people have absolutely no freedom at all. (And from Elton John’s Nikita–‘And if there comes a time, guns and gates no longer hold you in. And if you’re free to make choice, just look toward the west and find a friend.’) We took lots of pictures. We also wrote on the wall. I took a picture of it. I hope it comes out. After looking at the Wall for a while, we into the Checkpoint Charlie Museum. Now that was scary. It had all kinds of stories about successful and, unfortunately, unsuccessful escape attempts. It was interesting, but I am sure glad I don’t live in the East. I’m glad we went but once was enough to last me a lifetime. And East Berlin was not a very pleasant place to be. But at least I got an East Germany stamp in my passport and I have East German Marks as a souvenir.

We got back to Hamburg around 9:30. We parted company with Dan and David at La Roma. It was a fun trip, and except for Jan’s passport issue, pretty uneventful.”

When the Wall came down in late 1989, a German friend of mine from my agency in Barcelona was home for Christmas and went to the dismantling of it. She brought everyone back a piece, which I, of course, still have.

THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE

Posted on January 26, 2015 by atlonglastheard

I loved this book by Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D. I just finished listening to it yesterday, though during the middle of it, I ordered the actual book, too. I knew it was one I’d want to have and be able to reference. It was a tough listen as times, but it explained a lot of what I’ve been through and continue to go through.

What makes this book even more relevant to me is the fact that it was just published in 2014, which means it has the latest information about trauma that is available.

The inside dust jacket has this to say about Dr. Van Der Kolk and the book:

“This profoundly humane book offers a sweeping new understanding of the causes and consequences of trauma, offering hope and clarity to everyone touched by its devastation. Trauma has emerged as one of the great public health challenges of our time, not only because of its well-documented effects on combat veterans and on victims of accidents and crimes, but because of the hidden toll of sexual and family violence and of communities and schools devastated by abuse, neglect and addiction.

Drawing on more than thirty years at the forefront of research and clinical practice, Bessel Van Der Kolk shows that the terror and isolation at the core of trauma literally reshape both brain and body. New insights into our survival instincts explain why traumatized people experience incomprehensible anxiety and numbing and intolerable rage, and how trauma affects their capacity to concentrate, to remember, to form trusting relationships, and even to feel at home in their own bodies. Having lost the sense of control of themselves and frustrated by failed therapies, they often fear that they are damages beyond repair.

THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE is the inspiring story of how a group of therapists and scientists–together with their courageous and memorable patients–has struggled to integrate recent advances in brain science, attachment research and body awareness into treatments that can free trauma survivors from the tyranny of the past. These new paths to recovery activate the brain’s natural neuroplasticity to rewire disturbed functioning and rebuild step-by-step the ability to ‘know what you know and feel what you feel.’ They also offer experiences that directly counteract the helplessness and invisibility associated with trauma, enabling both adults and children to reclaim ownership of their bodies and their lives.

Readers will come away from this book with awe at human resilience and at the power of our relationships–whether in the intimacy of home or in our wider communities–to both hurt and heal.”

What this book also showed me is the things I did, EMDR, yoga, to name just two, were the ‘right’ ones to undertake and have contributed mightily in my healing process. I also realize I still have more healing to do –dang it– but that it is possible to rewire the neuro pathways in my brain even more than I’m sure they have already been rewired. It is a process and as much as I want it to be finished, the simple truth is it’s not. I think, too, that for people who are on a healing path, it is lifelong endeavor, whether you suffered a traumatic childhood event, a devastating car accident, the death of a child or spouse, or just the day-to-day living of life that can sometimes be unbelievably difficult. I’m realizing more and more that we are never really finished. As I always told my therapist, I do not have a choice in this. I have to keep moving forward.

I highly recommend this book for anyone who has suffered a traumatic event personally or knows of someone who has. The knowledge and insights you will gain will be invaluable to understanding the why of how trauma affects the body and mind.

FIRED AND SENT ‘HOME’

Posted on January 21, 2015 by atlonglastheard

From my journal:

4 October 1987

“I’m getting sick. My throat is infected. I don’t feel too bad but not good either. Maybe today will be busy and go kind of fast. I hope anyway.

7:30p This is just great. I’ve basically been fired. I’m being sent back to Hamburg tomorrow morning. Supposedly, it was mainly my not understanding the language. And the regular model is well now. But Katharina (the bitch) made me believe that my not understanding German had nothing to do with it. That girl is so in love with herself, it’s ridiculous. She’s such a snot. Enough said about her.

Anyway, once again I wonder what the fuck I am doing over here trying to model. And for that matter, why am I in this business at all? I really don’t like Germany. I think the people (as a whole) are very rude. I simply don’t like being away from what I know. I wonder if I subconsciously wanted to lose my book? I also wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow when I get back to the agency? I think I should get paid for the whole time even though I didn’t stay. I was booked for the 4 1/2 days and any other booking (ha) that I might have had, would’ve been turned down because I was already booked. I wonder if they (Cosmo) are going to blame me for this? I sure hope not. This is just one more thing to add to their list of why I shouldn’t be here. Just what I need.

Chipsey is just like Charlotte. She is sleeping under her blanket. She’s so cute.

I guess I should call Jan and let her know I’ll be back tomorrow morning. She has that look-see at Otto. I guess I’ll just have to hope that Siggi is there and can let me in to the apartment. I should get back around 10a or so.

This whole deal just makes me want to go home. I sure didn’t need this on top of losing/having my book stolen. I am so tempted to just say fuck it and leave.

5 October 1987

I’m sitting on the steps outside the apartment door. It is now 1p; I’ve been here since 11a. Siggi is not home. Neither is Jan. I sure hope she has a break between appointments. With my luck, she’s either testing or booked until tonight. I’m tired and I want to sleep. I don’t feel good. I do have my blanket, but I don’t really want to sleep in the stairwell. I feel like a derelict with no place to go. I bought a book in the airport in Munich, but don’t feel much like reading.

I can’t stop thinking about L. I sure don’t know why because I don’t even like him. He’s really kind of a jerk. I know he’s just out to get what he can, but that doesn’t seem to bother me. I guess as long as the fantasies remain in my mind, there’s nothing wrong with it. But every time I close my eyes, I imagine him kissing me. I guess I’ll never have the pleasure. Besides, he likes Jan and they are probably already engaged. I couldn’t believe how envious and jealous I was of Jan the other night. She has no strings on her. She can do whatever whenever with whomever she pleases. I think I still love D and miss him (in a way) but… I won’t do anything I shouldn’t though. At least I don’t think I will.

8p Finally go in the apt around 1:30. The lady across the hall had an extra key and let me in. Jan arrived about 10 minutes after that. She had quite a weekend. She tested on Saturday with L. He ended up staying the night Saturday and Sunday. She says she doesn’t like him, but I think she does. She slept in my bed and he slept in hers. I wish I could stop having lewd thoughts about him. It would be foolish tho do anything with him though. He seems to me to be the type who would blab to everyone. Sure don’t need that. Jan’s attitude about it amazes me, though. We were talking about it and she said that it’s not like it would mean anything. She also said L asked about my marriage. He said I seemed to him to be in a weird situation, and wondered if I was happily married. I wonder why I give that impression? (Maybe because I’m not!) He’s not the first to think that. Oh well. I guess I’ll go on in my mind thinking about him, but I can’t see it going any further. Besides, fantasy is always better than reality.

13 October 1987

How true that last line I wrote is. So much has happened since I last wrote, but I’m not going to back track. Suffice it to say that I’ve once again learned a lesson and that I’m over my ‘crush’ on L.

I have a lot of things on my mind that I should probably write down, but I am simply not up to dealing with them. Maybe later.

I sure hope the test Jan and I did on Saturday comes out good. The film will be ready this afternoon. I certainly need the boost a good test will bring. I also hope that my other photos from Chicago will be here this week. They have to be. I’m pissed that D didn’t make more of an effort. And since he is going out-of-town today for business, there is no telling when they’ll be sent if it he didn’t already send the package. Fuck.

Well, Jan, it’s 11 o’clock, so why the fuck haven’t you called me? I guess you are just going to be locked out. You should’ve called. She’s probably off having sex with L. I’m so glad that I didn’t.

15 October 1987

I’m getting dissatisfied with my life again. That’s a dangerous thing for me. I don’t want to go back to Chicago. I want to wander Europe for a couple of years. What I really need is to be a wealthy man’s kept woman. With no strings attached, of course. Fat chance! I wonder if D’ll screw that bitch again. I wouldn’t doubt it. I guess I’ll never know, and, really, do I even care?

16 October 1987

It’s getting harder every day not to just give up and go back. But it’s like Jan said, I don’t want to back or I would have 2 weeks ago when my book was stolen. Another week of doing nothing. My stuff from Chicago still hasn’t arrived. That really pisses me off.

2:30a I’ve decided/realized I am on a course of self-destruction, and I’ve got to get off. I know that’s why I’ve been eating the way I have. Trying to stuff my sadness…”

It has been years since I’ve read this particular journal and I am amazed at just how unhappy I truly was. And what a potty mouth I used to have! The saga continues in next Wednesday’s installment of ‘My West German Adventure.’

DYING TO BE ME

Posted on January 18, 2015 by atlonglastheard

From the back cover of the book: “In this truly inspirational memoir, Anita Moorjani relates how, after fighting cancer for almost four years, her body began shutting down—overwhelmed by the malignant cells spreading throughout her system. As her organs failed, she entered into an extraordinary near-death experience where she realized her inherent worth . . . and the actual cause of her disease. Upon regaining consciousness, Anita found that her condition had improved so rapidly that she was released from the hospital within weeks—without a trace of cancer in her body! Within these pages, Anita recounts stories of her childhood in Hong Kong, her challenge to establish her career and find true love, as well as how she eventually ended up in that hospital bed where she defied all medical knowledge. As part of a traditional Hindu family residing in a largely Chinese and British society, Anita had been pushed and pulled by cultural and religious customs since she was a little girl. After years of struggling to forge her own path while trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, she had the realization, as a result of her epiphany on the other side, that she had the power to heal herself . . . and that there are miracles in the Universe that she’d never even imagined. In DYING TO BE ME, Anita freely shares all she has learned about illness, healing, fear, “being love,” and the true magnificence of each and every human being! This is a book that definitely makes the case that we are spiritual beings having a human experience . . . and that we are all One!”

I listened to this book while in the middle of my healing process (not that is it actually over at this point) from my sexual assault, and I realized that I, too, had had a NDE, a near death experience, though not in the way that they normally occur. Because my assault was interrupted, which prevented my attacker from following through with his intention to rape me, I was also saved from the punches that were coming my way. The last thing I remember before hearing my guardian angel’s voice was DCD’s fists getting ready to beat the shit out of me because I wouldn’t stop screaming and fighting him. The only way he was going to be able to get control of me was to knock me out. As I’ve said in the past, I was literally fighting for my life. And in doing that, I dissociated from myself from the situation I was in. It wasn’t so much that I left my body and was watching what was happening to me as it was the feeling that I simply was not there. Dictionary.com defines a near death experience as “an unusual experience taking place on the brink of death and recounted by a person after recovery…” Given that definition, that’s exactly what happened to me. I am sure I’ll have plenty more to say on this, but for now this post is about Anita Moorjani’s book and her experience.

I loved the book. Her story is simply amazing. She was, literally, hours away from certain death when her near death experience occurred. What she ‘saw’ and ‘heard’ changed her life forever.

A DEVASTATING LOSS

Posted on January 15, 2015 by atlonglastheard

The following comes from my journal on 3 October 1987:

“Jan and I were waiting around the apartment to call into the agency at 1p. The phone rang about 12:15. It was the agency. Doris said, “you are going to Munich tomorrow until Wednesday afternoon.” She said I had to come to the agency to pick up my ticket and that I had an appointment to get my hair cut t 4p. Needless to say, I was astonished.

Anyway, we went to the agency and my book was back but Jan’s wasn’t. I got all the info for my trip. We wet to the travel agent to pick up the ticket. (I’m flying first class there and business class back.) We then went to get our bus passes for the next week and to do other errands. I got my hair cut and we decided to go back to the apartment and decide what to do about dinner. Jan thought she should call the agency in case her book was back and we could stop on our way home. The book wasn’t back but she has the booking for the topless ad on Sunday. That cheered her up considerably. After she hung up with the agency, we were walking through the terminal when all of a sudden I said, “My book!” I had left it in the phone booth. We ran all the way back (we hadn’t been gone even 5 minutes) to the phone and it was gone. We looked and looked. We went to the police and everywhere else we were told to go. No one had turned it in and I doubt they will. I left it where I shouldn’t have but someone stole it. The thing that pisses me off so much is it’s no good to anyone but me. And every last picture, slide and transparency I had was in it. There were also 2 new prints of Jan’s that we had picked up earlier. The slides of those pictures were also in there. I’m royally screwed. All I can hope is that someone turns it in. I’m not holding my breath, though. We finally gave up looking and went home. I tried calling D but he was at lunch. Jan and I had pizza for dinner, then I called agin. He was there and I briefly told him what had happened and to call me back. He did, and I gave the names of the photographers and exactly which prints I need replaced. I told him to call Mary and have her get a hold of them ASAP> I sure hope Mary comes through. She is so cheap, though. She told D to have me call her in 45 minutes or call her at home after 9p Chicago time. No way was I calling her, Anyway, if everyone (photographers) gets their butts in gear and does whatever it takes to replace my lost shots, then Jan thinks I’ll only lose a week or so. At least I’ll be out-of-town working for most of next week. When all the stuff is collected, it’s going to have to be Federal Expressed or whatever to get it here pronto. I am so mad that it happened. That dumb book was always connected to my arm and I can’t believe I didn’t realize I did not have it immediately. Oh well, as Lance would say, I was being a fucking blonde. I tried calling him to tell him about my good news (Munich) and ask advice for my bad, but his phone is messed up. I also figured he’d laugh, though it’s not funny at all.

I am sitting in the Frankfort airport right now, waiting to board for Munich. First Class is all right! We were served breakfast on actual dishes. It was even good. I could learn to like this.

I’m a little nervous about this booking. I guess I’ll know in a little while what to expect. I sure hope I do well. I know I will.

9:15p I should be going to sleep now instead of writing, but I don’t want to get behind. I got into Munich about 11:45a. I got my luggage and found a taxi. He took me to the Hilton. I went to room 702 and they had never heard of Frau Hagen. I had to lug everything back down to the lobby. Doris made a mistake. It was room 709, not 702. I finally got there and was put immediately to work. I’m not doing runway at all. I’m basically doing showroom modeling. When I first saw the line, I though — oh no, how ugly. But the more I see of it, the more I like it. In fact, there are several pieces I’m dying to have. It’s too expensive though. It’s all couture, so even at cost, I can’t afford it.It gives me ideas though. I sure wish Jan were here. I’m sure she would really like the line. I found out the only reason I am here is the regular girl is sick and in the hospital. Another job by default. Who cares as long as they keep coming? Anyway there were no clients to show anything to today. Tomorrow should be a different story. The designer’s name is Inke Von Hagen. It should be kind of fun, but I know that by the time Wednesday afternoon comes around I’m going to be exhausted. I’ll be working from 9-6 or sometimes later. I sure hope they plan on feeding me. I also hope I get to pick what I want to eat, not just nibble on what they get.

I’m staying at a friend of Katharina’s. She has a little dog just like Charlotte except she is light brown. Her name is Chipsey. She’s so cute. There is also a big boy dog whose name I forget. And she has a baby boy named Adrian. He’s 12 weeks old. Tomorrow Katharina’s picking me up at 8:30a. I guess I’ll take a cab each night back to the house.

I need to sleep, so I’ll stop here. I’m afraid I’m getting sick and I sure don’t need that. Staying up practically all night on Thursday was not so smart. I’m paying for it now. Oh well. It was fun!”

Okay, clearly I used to write tons and even though this saga is not complete, I am choosing to save it for next week.

At Long Last Heard

A Story of Survival

Tag Archives: @TamerieShriver

CROOKED FEET AND BAD KNEES

A DIVER IS BORN

BEING KIND COSTS NOTHING

A YOGA CHALLENGE

HOW ATTACHED ARE YOU?

EAST GERMANY

THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE

FIRED AND SENT ‘HOME’

DYING TO BE ME

A DEVASTATING LOSS

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