The things we come back to

I went swimming today. And no, not because of Michael Phelps. I went swimming today because I've wanted to for months, years even. I think about it all the time, but today I made it in. And in a moment, I was reminded of all the other times swimming has been my grounding force. Visiting my Dad in LA. In the early days at Canyon Cinema in SF, depressed, in transition. The early days in NYC, again, depressed and in transition. I hadn't put together the pattern til an hour ago. It's the transitional moments. I'm certainly not depressed, but working again fulltime for an outside organization - something I haven't done for decades. So not depressed, but yes, in transition. And as I ponder taking my youngest child to start college next week, I remember too, that I spent my first pregnancy swimming. It was my transition from working fulltime to the unknown of parenting. Swimming was my salve. I'd forgotten. But smile too now remembering and realizing what a little fish my first born turned out to be. Water is her salve too.

The ritual is familiar. Gym swimming, not outdoors even though Barton Springs is the lifeblood of the town I now live in. I need anonymity and cover. I looked good in a bathing suit I think one day in my life @ when I was 13. It's going to the gym - in SF it was in the tenderloin. A crumby Y with a friendly front door staff. In NYC the first go-round it was the Apple gym on Thompson Street. I used to run into Pam Yates there keeping up her arm strength while briefly back in the U.S. between shooting documentaries in war zones. Pregnant with Georgia, I subwayed up to the 24hour gym on 58th, which unfortunately went bankrupt right after I gave birth, right after I renewed my year membership, saving money by paying it all in advance.

Now in Austin. At the popular 24 hour fitness center near my house, near my job. The same gym I've paid money to every month for years, waiting for this day. I hit the water and the feeling is the same. I love the water. I love swimming. I can't breathe. I panic immediately as I finish one lane of the crawl. I just can't exhale. So as I've done years and years before, I switch to back stroke up, breast stroke down. I used to feel like a wuss for that, but BFF Susan told me not to. "It's all good." Back stroke up. Breast stroke down. It's bliss. The rhythm kicks in. The breathing stabilizes. It's just what my 50+ year old hips need. Then it's the sauna. Quiet. Hot. Dark. The contractions lessen. Those deep contractions the massage guy was talking about the other day. That Wendy always talks about. The unconscious holding and gripping.

It's what I need now. What I've needed before. What I keep coming back to.

The extreme relief possible

I've added another practitioner. Not a new practice, just a new practitioner. And he's amazing. A massage therapist with a brilliant touch. With savvy wisdom. He was the first to point out that my current limping had everything to do with my compulsive Barbie foot stance while sitting. You know, the toe pointed, rather than foot flat on the floor.

My pilates trainer has been talking about the importance of feet for years. Really using the whole foot, stretching the foot, engaging the arches, relaxing into gravity rather than clenching. But it was the new guy who immediately grasped how weirdly I was sitting all day in the new gig. Unconsciously. So I started paying more attention, started becoming more conscious. But it's still been a problem. And tonight he took it farther. "You know contracting is often the way the body tries to avoid feeling something." Yeah, ok, new age stuff. I know there's a mind/body connection! I have no doubt about that. I've experienced too much that's interesting in that area.

As I relaxed into the deepest relaxation I felt the most profound relief. The body tenses unconsciously and that causes ill effects. I always love massage but the relief from this deep strong massage combined with my own very deep breathing was true bliss. "You know," he said, "what you're feeling is what you're feeling. It's helped by what I'm doing but really, it's what you're capable of feeling." Kind of a mind fuck -but what a great goal! To get as blissed out through my own means? An idea very worth pursuing.

Boys Stay Away - More (un) health tales from an aging gal

So I couldn't find the string. Which is weird. I've had this IUD since Nov 1999 and the string has always been right where it's supposed to be. I don't check every month, but often enough. I'm so grateful to this little device that keeps me free from an unwanted pregnancy. I know it's crazy! I'm 50. I have too many friends in their early 40s struggling and struggling to reproduce but I'm still ovulating and it could happen. My first kids are old - I'm done with that phase. I don't want to return; don't want the possibility made real, a too-old pregnancy, it's inevitable loss.

So the gyn wasn't worried. "I bet the string's just curled up in there. Hmm, your uterus is hard to get to. Hmmm. Well I guess you should have an ultrasound to see if it's still in there. " They take me pretty much right away, right downstairs. The tech is taking all sorts of measurements. "Is it hard to find?" "Oh no," she says. "Pretty easy but as long as were in here I'm doing a full exam."

The gyn calls later. Well, it's still in there but you have some fibroids. I told you you had fibroids, right? Uh no. "Well one is surprisingly big. Like 8, 8 1/2. Big as a grapefruit. I'm surprised it's so big. If it gets to 9 1/2, you're going to have some decisions to make. Oh, and it's pushed the IUD down to a lower position than usual, so that's why you said you thought you could feel your cervix before I even went on in there. The fibroid is exerting pressure. It's like you're 3 & 1/2 months pregnant. If you stopped ovulating in the next year or two, it should shrink. Problem will be if you're still going on @ 55. Or if you start having periods like a gulley waddle."

Uh, what?! "Can you translate from that Texas speak?" (At least I think that's what she said. - something about too much rain and overflowing the gulleys. gullets. I don't know.)

Not life threatening. Not even a sickness. But disturbing and uncomfortable. I can feel the pressure, in a place where sensation usually doesn't exist. And there are repercussions. Again, not life threatening, not even dangerous. Just a surprise and a drag. A mental drain and perhaps some unpleasant decisions and procedures ahead.

MBTs have saved my life

I totally prefer these:















But these MBT Kisumu sandals have fucking changed my life!















Seriously.

I've had trouble with my feet all my life. When others were comfy barefoot or in flip flops, I wasn't. Summer sandals gave me blisters. I needed arch supports. I angled in. From the earliest age, fashion was beyond me - because really, it starts with the feet, doesn't it? My dad forced me into saddle shoes. Later I made do with boots and clogs which kind of worked. I could be very happy living in boots. But it's always been a problem and always sucked. I love walking. And what could be more important and necessary?

But often it's been excruciating. Fallen metatarsals. Ball of foot pain. The dancing only made it way, way worse. So I started looking for some new solutions. At Karavel, a guy in the wellness center pointed me towards the MBTs. Masai Barefoot Technology. I'd heard of them, heard they were controversial. Some people loved them, others miserable. I picked the least worst looking, slid them on, and ohmigod, I felt like I was in a pilates session. Seriously. All of a sudden I was standing taller, the back of my legs lengthened, my core kickin' in. I bought them. Watched the "new user" video, laughed that they're classified as exercise equipment in Europe, and became a serious convert. They're fantastic. Instead of debilitating cramping pain 40 minutes into a regular walk, now I feel energized and painfree. Literally regaining a bounce in my step. Realizing how badly I'd been suffering from chronic pain and just living with it.

I'm not happy about the way I look in them. Really not happy about walking around in them with black socks when the weather turned cold. But man oh man, the relief. What a lifesaver.

Things that Feel Good

I used to have a friend, a highly ambitious super smart go-getter film friend, who bought a new lipstick every single day on her lunch hour. Some women (though not really in my peer group) compulsively buy shoes. Others, housewares and candles. Around here, a lot of people drink, a lot. In the last 10 years, I've become a devotee of bodywork. Massage, shiatsu, chiropractic, acupuncture, yoga and pilates - I'm into it. Today, I had my first ever reflexology experience. It was the greatest!

I've had problems with my feet all my life. From my youngest days it was complicated. I couldn't find shoes that fit. Blisters, no arch support. My father forced me into saddles shoes in those important 4th/5th grade years when everyone else was wearing loafers, or the luckiest, sneakers. Forget about flipflops - that was torture. It's been a real albatross - stopping me from things that would otherwise be great for me. Hiking. Walking. Now dancing. I'd been in a pretty good place for awhile, living here in the car country of Texas, and confining my shoe choices to Danskos and cowboy boots. But age and the dancing, precipated a new crisis. Mentioning the burning to Adrianna the other day she chipped, "Oh you have to try my reflexologist. And he's right in the neighborhood."

I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm familiar with the concept, that there are reflex areas in the feet and hands which correspond to all of the glands. organs and parts of the body. I understood that somehow in manipulating the feet, you'd be treating the rest of the body. What I wasn't prepared for was just how awesomely great it would feel, and deeply relaxing.

Maybe because for so long I lived in my head. For decades people hassled me, "You think too much!" So in this later phase, I've been embracing the modalities that get me out of my head. The mind/body connection is powerful and real. And once you come to understand and start to work with it, the changes are palpable.

I remember the year my father was dying. He lived in California. I was in NY. I'd speak to him nightly, going through details and listening to his frank talk about dying. "I'm a doctor. I can face these things," while the next minute he was buying chandeliers for his new condo. As the year progressed, I'd roll out of bed and stutter down the stairs. One foot at a time. Literally hunched over. After he died, my sister treated me to my first ever shiatsu in L.A. The masseuse was a blind Japanese named Mr. Hamm. "You really need this!" he said. Walking out of his office I realized I could straighten up. I could breathe. The wellbeing, which lasted a full three days was profound.

The next reinforcement came in 1995. I was typing John's book, writing the PTA newsletter, and into email into a big way. 12 hours daily typing, easily. I woke up one morning and couldn't use my left hand at all. It was locked into a kind of gimp spasm. It was a crisis; the book was near done but not finished, and my computer input and editing was crucial. I started seeing two different masseuses each week for six weeks. It was lifechanging. It didn't just feel good, it was essential.

So I've continued when I can, limited only by financial and time constraints. I'm amazed by the exploration of the different ways energy moves (or doesn't) in the body. I find the work miraculous, and the excellent practitioners who practice, fascinating. I know it's indulgent. But amazing. Powerful.