February=Forgiveness

I've been reading Geneen Roth's book "When Food is Love" and for the last few days I can only read just barely a paragraph at a time. They all seem to be bringing everything awful just right to the surface.

The good Scandinavian in me says "push it down, don't look! Here, have some lefse and let's do something else!"

But I am looking. Granted, only a sneak peek at a time, but I'm looking for little bits of time so that I can see. You know, actually see what's coming up.

And what I'm seeing is that it's time to let some of this go. I've not had a particularly awful life, not at all. Things have been pretty OK. But I am a little orchid of a person in some ways; I am outstandingly, overwhelmingly, heroically sensitive about everything. Princess and the Pea? Oh that's me. And I'm really amazingly good at holding a grudge. If there were grudge Olympics, I'd win a gold medal. And the silver and bronze, too.

So here I am sensitive, grudge holding person who uses food as a weapon. Of course I wail on myself the most. There are concentric circles of blame and grudge. A bulls eye with me in the center. Should have had more education when I was younger? Oh stupid me. Could really have done a better job managing finances for the last 15 years--yup, I am awful at managing money. Should have, could have, why don't, come ON. It just goes from there, my husband, family out further and further until there is even Jimmy Carter, come on he really should have been a better president.

This brings us to Forgiveness February. All month I am going to forgive everyone. Starting with me. Loving forgiveness. My dear husband who we all know is the most amazing man on the planet, and if you don't, well trust me, I do know it. And my dear mother who was a fantastic mother and still inspires me. Everything bad that I think has happened to me is nothing, it's over. It's done. I did the best I could and so did everyone else. And even Jimmy Carter. Him, too.

Forgiveness February. Bring it on. I'm gonna clear all the log jams so the love can just flow down like water.

It IS fun at the YMCA

I've been a YMCA-person for most of my life. When I was a little girl, my dad and I were in a group called "Indian Princesses", what a horrible name, idea and misappropriation, but it was a YMCA group with dads and daughters spending time together which was good. Then I went to a Y day camp called Kici Yapi--again an awful name and misappropriation, but again, a good camp where I learned to swim and canoe had my first contact with good education about nature. Then in high school I went on four Adventure Canoe trips with YMCA Camp Menogyn--the last one thirty some days canoeing across Manitoba, ending in Hudson Bay.

When my kids were little, about 10 years-ago, I got a job at the Y so we could have a discount on the membership, and we've been Y members ever since.

So, I've been working out in one way or another for those 10 years. Even during times when I've gained weight, I've had a pretty consistent routine of working out. I've had a bunch of different trainer sessions, every time we moved to a new Y, I would take advantage of the "free" trainer session and orientation. It's been good, I've learned a lot. Sometimes opposing things, but mostly really good.

But it's funny, when I'm really motivated I can do pretty much the same workout with a hot intensity, I sweat, I hurt afterward, I'm focused. I look like some mad woman. And when I'm on the unfit end, I'll beg off when the family goes, I'll lollygag, I'll go slow, lift less, choose the recumbent bike--OK, not really! But it's the same kind of way I eat; less mindfully, filled with resentment. No fun.

Today I ran a straight mile and a half, I know it's nothing compared to what a lot of folks do, but I haven't run that far straight thru since I was 35, six years ago. I think I lifted more weight than I have in a long time, if not ever. I was focused, intense, driven. I was on!

And it was fun. I love my YMCA. I don't live near one, so split my visits between two different ones, but the one I love best is the older, smaller, funky one in West Seattle right near the church I serve. Today at that funky little Y I saw a board member from my church, and the girl who used to give my kids a hard time about working out when they had had their teen orientation at the OTHER Y. I saw the local UCC minister, the administrator of our school, and faces that I just see there regularly. The swim team has their swim-a-lap fundraiser tonight and I remember working that, and covering the 2am shift on the overnight swim party, too. I remember going to this Y when we first moved to Seattle and my kids had to pass a swim test to go in the pool, now the oldest just finished his lifeguard training in that same pool and was, that day on the spot, offered a job. The kids went to child care when we were first here, and a few years later our middle son took babysitter training in the same room. It's been so much more than a gym.

It's like hanging out with family. It's like working out with family.

A funny world.

And I'm glad I know the Y, glad I have it, so thankful that it's there, that it's been there.