Love and Spontaneity #reverb10

Dec. 16 Prompt: Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst? -Martha Mihalik

Dec. 17 Prompt: Lesson learned. What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward? -Tara Weaver

Perfect.  Just as I sit down to write this, another headache is coming slamming in.  The barometer is changing, and like many migraneurs, barometer changes can give me headaches.  More often than not they do.  But I had gotten away with the first 24 hours of this storm, so I had hoped maybe I would be spared.  Sigh.

I couldn't decide how to approach the friendship prompt.  I feel like I have endured a lot this year, but most of it was spent in our duplex, just my husband and myself.   It was much more a year of physical and emotional stress than it was of perspective change.  I know that stress and mayhem are supposed to build character, but my character can only be built up so much before it topples me with its weightiness.  I know how to get through shitty times, because so much of my life has been shitty.  That sounds awful, and I should make it clear I am very happy.   But that is almost entirely because of my marriage.  This is not to disparage my friends.   And perhaps it is just a way of pointing out how dear of a friend my husband is to me.  But he was the person's whose shoulder I sobbed when it all became too much.   And vice versa, frankly.  

We have become better friends this year.  We both talk about it a lot:  It is as if we have just met each other again, 10 years later.  Again, a horrible year in terms of events, a fantastic year in terms of my marriage.  Our family is mostly on the East Coast.  I have a sister in Dallas, and a sister in Australia.  We are a pretty self-contained unit, and both being shy introverts, we aren't the most social people, so we really rely on each other.  I actually am more of a social person than he, which is almost scary.  

Although I do think my sociability would be enhanced if I felt I could confidently accept invitations in advance.  But I always risk being sick the day of.  Which cleverly segues into my lesson learned in 2010.  Heh.

It is hard to get me to do things at the spur of the moment.  Yet I have more "memorable" moments when I say "Fuck it, let's do it," than when I try to plan ahead.   I mentioned in an earlier post that I plan compulsively, and while I do not have OCD, it is considered something I need to pay attention to as part of my overall mental health.  Of course, keeping an eye on over-planning is kind of a Catch-22 for me, but I do as best I can.

Whenever I say, "Okay, let's do it," I have fun.  Always.  Whether it is to run to a restaurant at the last minute, or catch a movie, stuff that may not seem very bold to you.   But I can't even be sure I will be functional the next day, so planning for things is no good.   In fact, I know I use the obsessive planning as a defense mechanism for my lack of control over my health.  

And I also have a tendency to "hoard" the hours I am not in pain.  Sometimes I just enjoy hanging out doing not much, when I am feeling all right.  Add that time to the times I am down with headaches, and that leaves not many opportunities for spontaneity.  

Spontaneity for me could mean deciding on the spur of the moment to order a fun dinner from Whole Foods for New Year's Eve.  Then ordering it two weeks ahead of time.  But hey, I ordered it as soon as I thought of it!  And some of the joy I do find in planning comes from exactly this type of anticipation, so I actually was not being as much of a freak as usual.

But it can also mean moments of truly plunging in, and challenging myself, such as sharing the communal showers at the Oregon Country Fair, and overcoming just a little bit of my body-hatred.  It also meant I decided to go to a class on the Medical Cannabis Industry.  And at the moment, I am annoyed, because I had another great example of when taking a chance did something positive, and the migraine has knocked it out of my head.  Grrr.  Planning does have its place, I guess.

I will never be able to stop planning entirely.  I see the same behavior in other family members!  But I am trying to take risks, however tame they may seem to others.  

In fact, I just decided to let my hair grow out its natural color (with plenty of gray), and made the hair appointment for early next week!   And earlier that same day, I am going to stop off at my favorite tattoo shop to discuss my next tattoo.  Wheeee!

Baby steps, people.

Stone, Smoke and Water, #reverb10

Prompt: December 3rd
Moment: Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year.  Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors) -Ali Edwards

When I look back at my life, the moments when I have felt most alive were also the moments when I felt most authentic.  Authenticity, to me, is demonstrated by knowing oneself, both bad and good. And then accepting and living comfortably in one's own skin because of, or even in spite of it.  

Once I saw today's prompt, it was easy for me to know where I would "find" my moment this year, because it is easy for me to pinpoint the weekend on which I felt most authentic and true to myself.  The weekend was that of July 10, 11, and 12, in Veneta, OR, at the Oregon Country Fair.  I already have mentioned that it was a highlight of my year.  I expect it to be a highlight of many years to come.  I am a recent initiate into the OCF family, and once again, I must give link love to my fairy godmother, nakedjen, for being my guide.  She has been going to the Fair for more years than I am willing to guess, since I cannot remember the number, and I don't want to offend her by guessing too few.   After hearing her enthusiasm for it year after year, I finally decided I had to check it out.  In 2009, I went with DH and NJ.  This year, DH stayed home, and I camped with NJ, and her friend D.

So I went to sleep Thursday night knowing on what weekend my "moment" was, and when I woke, I realized when exactly the moment was.

It was at the first day of the Fair, on a Friday, as always.  The grounds are huge and the paths are windy, and all sorts of unexpected intrigue await around every bend.  One thing I was not expecting was the spa-like Ritz, which provides showers, bathing supplies, cubbies to stuff your clothes into while you shower, and an open air sauna.  On Friday at the Ritz, there was a "Women's Hour,"  which actually lasted most of the afternoon.  I am pretty unhappy with my body, so this would be the one time during the weekend I was brave enough to go into the showers.

I was not planning on going to the shared showers because of my body image issues, and paid the fee for a private shower.  There are some private showers, but the majority of the showers are communal.  But what I wasn't expecting was that when I asked for a towel, there were none!  NJ laughed, and pointed out the circle of nude women around an open air sauna.   I was going to have to dry in front of it, naked and exposed to everyone.

It was at that moment, much to the amazement of my dear friend, and myself, quite frankly, that I literally said, "Fuck it, I'm going to use the group showers."  I bought a small bar of chamomile soap, and went into the dressing area, nervous as hell.  I quickly stripped down, and followed NJ to the showers.

The Ritz must be one of the most beautiful places to shower.  With the sky as a roof, a planked wooden floor, showers mounted on a wooden pergola, and women chattering around me, there was so much to take in.  It was hot and humid, something my Northern California-attuned body found pretty unbearable.  Even the warm water from the shower seemed cool, and lovely.  On the other side of a wall of sinks and mirrors, the singing of women around the sauna floated in the air.  I washed myself as hastily as possible, and then looked around me at all the different shapes of women and relaxed.  I allowed myself to wash myself again, deliberately and thoroughly.

As I approached the sauna, I saw other women, relaxed and happy in their own bodies.  No one was trying to hide or cover their imperfections.   The scent of smoke and wood rose from the sizzling, steaming rocks of the sauna, on which the Ritz attendants took turns tossing ladle-fuls of water,   On a small stage, a folk singer, as nude as the rest of us, led us in a round, which ended with "I love this place."  Around me were damp, clean smelling women, and another friend, freshly wet and gleaming, slid onto the bench beside us.  I sat singing, on a rough wooden bench, with NJ blissfully tearing up beside me.  I had confronted my fear of my own body, and taken a small step towards accepting myself as I am now:  Overweight, aging and imperfect.  I felt fully present, fully embraced, and full of joy.

Costumed and clean: