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Friday, November 7, 2014

Todays Theme: I found me


I am 51 and 230 days, yes I just counted, and I think I finally found me.  I was out for a run and I realized that I am perfectly content in this moment.  And this one.  And this one.  And this one.
I was in Stanley Park, my beautiful new sanctuary.  I had just explored a new trail and was thinking that I need to drive over there so that I have the energy to really explore the trails - it’s three miles round trip to get there from my house and I’ve only been back to running for a few weeks.  I run without music so the experience is a symphony for the senses - colors, scents, sounds.  It’s lovely.
A few weeks back my friend Cara told me she thought I didn’t need to lose any more weight, my hour glass was fantastic.  A day or so later I sent her two pictures of me in my tights and tank, one with the tank pulled over my hips and one with it up around my waist - because it would ride up every time I pulled it down - this, I said, is why I still have weight to lose, my hips need to be small enough that my shirts don’t ride up.
This riding up applies to shirts, tanks, running tops, sweaters - everything.  My hips are a size or two larger than the my upper body.  Maybe three, I have no idea.  It makes dresses very challenging.
What in the name of I don’t have all day to read this does this have to do with finding yourself Tara?
Yeah, I’m getting there.
Today I noticed that my tops aren’t riding up.
And I didn’t struggle during the first mile.  I’m a distance runner and the beginning, before I warm up a little, is a strain.
And I was thinking about my lunch, my delicious, satisfying, filling lunch.
And I was thinking about never having margaritas again.  Tons of sugar.  It’s always been my intention to add them back in to my life experience, but I have been thinking a lot about this.  I know I am at the top of the slippery slope.  I’m not near the edge of it, but it’s not too far away.  And I’m seriously going to add a giant sugary drink into my life experience?  The idea makes me question my sanity.  So I have been allowing the idea that I may never have them again.  It makes me a little sad.
Then I think about where I am at this moment in my life.  I’m clear headed.  I’m motivated.  I’m running.  I’m planning things, not just running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off.  I’m happy.  I’m getting my house set up.  Very slowly I grant you, but it’s happening.  I’m sleeping well.
And my shirts aren’t riding up my hips.
I was running down that trail this morning thinking, I am finally being the person I always believed was buried deep inside, buried under 500 pounds of sugar.
I’ll keep working, I figure it can only get better from here, but this is a really good place.

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Todays Theme: Let pleasure guide your goals


I was logging todays (very short) run in my The Complete Runners Day-By-Day Log 2014 Calendar, which I have only been using since September.  I bought it last fall with high hopes for the year.  Those hopes have been realized, just nine months later than I had planned.
Yes, I have the 2015 edition at home just waiting to be filled with good stuff about my training.
Each month there is a piece before the entries start.  January’s is Surrender, February’s is Blues, etc.  I asked dad to read the last piece I wrote and while he did I thought I would read through the piece at the beginning of January.  It talks about discipline and pleasure, each has a place in setting goals.  “The next time you’ve let yourself down, pleasure should be the first thing that comes up for review.”  I love to run and I missed it when I wasn’t running, but when I tried it was painful in a negative way.  So I didn’t run, because it was awful and didn’t give me any pleasure.  Right now running is working for me, but today I went out with Rafferty (dad’s standard poodle) and I just wasn’t feeling it.  I pushed myself for two miles which is much less than I’ve been doing, but the least I could do today and still feel good about it.  Even though I wasn’t feeling it, I still feel better having done the run than if I had skipped it, or cut it even shorter.
I have a friend who hates running, but she would like to run one more half marathon, she’s even contemplating an attempt at running another marathon.  She has walked many half marathons, she walks fast.  But she’d like to run another one, just to see.  Even though she hates running she knows that completing a half, running instead of walking, would be pleasurable.  After the fact, but it will give her satisfaction.
“Goals at 50 are different than at 30.  Indulge and inhabit them.  Permit change.”  I have lots of friends who get lost in ‘back in the day.’  Back in the day, I was much faster, I could run every day, I never got injured, whatever.  For them that takes away from what they can do now.  Sometimes I wish I had discovered my love of running before I was 41.  But maybe that would mean I’d have no cartilage in my knees now and I wouldn’t be able to run. 
I have a 5k scheduled in December, I’ll be running through the Bright Nights display in Springfield.  I won’t be racing it, I’m just excited to run through the lights.  I’m heading to DC in March with a friend from high school and a friend from Lochearn Camp to run in the Rock N Roll DC half marathon.  I’m not sure where I’ll be in pacing or stamina at that point, I’m hoping to do reasonably well, but it’s not likely to be a PR, my best half time was 1:54 when I was training for a half ironman.  I’m just looking forward to this weekend that my friends and I have been talking about for two years.  I’m looking forward to a weekend in DC, haven’t been there in ages.
It doesn’t matter that I am likely to be slower than I was in the past.  I’m running again.  My goal is just to keep running.
As long as I take pleasure from it.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Todays Theme: I ate brownies last night


I ate brownies last night.  I was very relieved when I woke up and, after reading The Virgin of Hopeless Causes for a few minutes, realized I ate brownies . . . in a dream.
Phe-ew!
I was reading along, had this small realization, was intensely relieved and continued reading.  I don’t remember the dream completely.  I was with someone and we were somewhere that food was out on a table, like a party.  I think I had some stuff other than brownies, but I know I ate a brownie.  It was thick and crumbly and moist and I have no idea if it was delicious or not, I don’t remember tasting it.
But I ate a brownie.
And it bummed me out.
A lot.
In my dream I thought, crap, the hypnosis is probably broken and now I’ll start gaining weight and go all the way back up to 180+.  I wish I had weighed myself right before the hypnosis, I would know exactly how much + there was.
Because that would be useful.  Queue shaking of head.
Still, I was resigned to the eating of the brownie and the slow descent down the slippery slope to continuing my life under 500 pounds of sugar.  It’s a life I’m familiar with.  It’s comfortable, in a horrifyingly uncomfortable way.
When I first started this process I had a dream that I took a big gulp of soda, realized what I had done and spit it out immediately.  I didn’t spit anything out last night.  The brownie was cooked just so, moist but crumbly, so it was breaking up as I ate it, falling off my finger tips, me holding one piece at my mouth and trying to catch others as they spilled away.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say shoving the brownie into my mouth, but it wasn’t too far distant from that.
Fortunately the friend I was with did not call me out for eating the brownie.  My dad, in the past has asked me, “are you sure you want to eat that?” or “should I put that away?” or “are you really hungry?” or “are you eating, AGAIN?”
These questions can be useful, but they can also be intensely annoying, primarily because no I don’t want to eat that or yes you should put that away or no I’m not really hungry or YES, DAMMIT I’M EATING AGAIN LEAVE ME ALONE IN MY MISERY.  My answer to dad was often something to the effect of, I’m all set thanks.  With an attitude, of course.
But this was a dream.  I don’t need to be called out in my dreams.  Because, well, seriously.
It does make me wonder if my resolve is teetering.  I don’t think it is.  I’m in Maine with dad and there is blueberry pie, Newman’s Own Hermits and pumpkin bread.  All of which are super tasty and favorites of mine.  All of which I have had no inclination to eat.
I’m enjoying the food that I’m eating more than I ever remember enjoying food, of any type, before in my life.  Last night we had scrambled eggs with chives and green onions.  Dad made them because his taste better than mine.  I don’t know why, we both cut up chives and green onions, put them in with the eggs, whisk and then cook them, but his taste better every time.  I cooked up some bacon, which came out perfect - crunchy but not too crunchy, well done but not over done - so delicious.  I also roasted some potato slices with salt and pepper, this is my carb loading for the running that I’m doing, they are really yummy.  Finally I made a salad with red leaf lettuce, carrot, cucumber, avocado and homemade vinaigrette.  The vinaigrette came out much better last night than the night before.
It was all supremely delicious and amazingly satisfying.  I could have eaten all night, just for the satisfaction I got from the food.  But I didn’t.  I ate my fill, maybe a little bit over, but not much.  Then stopped.  Just thinking about it makes me happy.
I am finding that food is tasting so much better than I ever remember and I am enjoying preparing it and eating it, which has never been particularly true before.  Food is no longer my enemy.  I can’t eat and eat and eat until I feel likely to bust.  I eat and eat and eat until I’m satisfied.
It seems that 107 days off sugar my body has adjusted and I have adjusted along with it.  I know when I am hungry and I know when I have pushed myself to the point where I HAVE TO EAT.  I don’t get there often, I am learning how to have food around that will fuel me and that I can eat in dribs and drabs.  Given my work I can’t schedule my meals when I need them so I bring food that I can eat a few bites at a time.  I make a bowl full of food - a taco salad or a broccoli slaw with ham - a few bites of either of those will get me through the 50 minutes of work I do at a time.  Until I can sit down and eat the main portion of the salad.
That is much better than unwrapping a bar of some sort that will throw off my whole system and load me up with carbs that will turn into fat.
I look forward to my meals, they are delicious and it is amazing to eat until I am satisfied and know that I won’t have to think about food until it’s time for the next meal, which I have ingredients for and look forward to preparing.
I’m not scrambling for ingredients, generally.  There are times that my preparations and life don’t line up.  Maybe I’m heading to Maine and I’ve let my stores get low so there isn’t anything mouldering in my fridge, or it was more important to go for a run (which it occasionally is).  In that case I hope I have time to get to the store and pick up ham to get me through until my lunch or dinner break at work.  More often than not it’s working out that I have food and time to make it, or time to get food - because I’m learning how to live in this new paradigm.
And I’m really happy here.
No idea where those dream brownies came from, they don’t call my name when I’m awake.
Update:  I survived Halloween candy and a HUGE bag of super fresh, delicious looking Vermont cider donuts that my lovely and generous colleague brought in on Saturday.  They smelled fantastic, I took several good sniffs, but I didn’t really want to eat them.  Continuing strong.

Todays Theme: Graciously accepting compliments


Years ago, possibly before I left Boston in 93, I gave someone a compliment.  Yes, smartass, I’ve given compliments since then, this was a particular experience - which I’ll tell you about if you just give me a chance.
Anyway I complimented someone on something.  Don’t ask the details, I can’t remember them.
What I do remember is that my compliment, whatever it was, was not graciously accepted.
And I was annoyed.  It was a sincere compliment, it should not be pooh-poohed.  But it was.
It is what we, particularly women, are trained to do.  Your hair looks lovely today.  No, I hate the way it . . .  You did a great job on . . .  Oh, that was all someone else.  Have you lost way, you look terrific.  No, I’ve gained weight and nothing fits.  What a lovely dress!  Oh, this old thing?  What a delicious meal, you are a terrific cook.  Oh, I just followed the recipe, it’s no big thing.
GAH, just say thank you for crying out loud.
I was so tweaked by this persons pooh-poohing of my compliment.  Then I thought, gee, if I feel like this when someone doesn’t graciously accept my compliment, other people must feel the same way when I don’t graciously accept their compliments of me.
GAH, in order to avoid being a complete and utter hypocrite, I better start graciously accepting other peoples compliments.
I’ll tell you it takes practice.  My, and I don’t think I’m out of line when I say “our”, natural bent is away from vanity and ego and looking like we think we’re all that, so we downplay these positive things that people point out about us, whatever they may be.
The thing is, it isn’t vanity or ego or thinking I’m all that to say thank you to a compliment.  I’m just allowing someone to think something nice about me.  I don’t have to agree.  But even if I don’t agree I don’t have to deny what they see.
The other thing is, once I got in the habit of graciously accepting a compliment, it made me feel good.
For real.
It wasn’t painful.  I didn’t feel like a fraud.  I realized that what I think makes no never mind to the situation.  Allowing someone else to say something nice about me and to graciously acknowledge it with a thank you?  It feels really good.
Try it.  You’ll see that other person smile.  They said something nice and you let them, it makes them feel good.  It’s practically a mitzvah!
Plus, they like something about you, so you get to feel good about that.
This practice has served me well in my profession.  I’m pretty good at what I do and have lots of people tell me I have great hands, healing hands, the warmest hands they’ve ever felt.  I’ve had marriage proposals - from men and women.  I’ve been invited to come live with more people than I can say.  This past weekend someone asked what they could do to entice me to move to Toronto, assuring me they could get me loads of work.
I say this not out of ego, I just do what I do and sometimes, granted most often, it lands well.  That involves a confluence of events and experiences.
The point is that years of practice in graciously accepting compliments allow me to say “thank you, I’m so pleased you enjoyed the massage” or “thank you, I’m so glad you feel better” or “thank you, it was my pleasure.”  This last one is the most frequent one, it really is my pleasure, I love what I do.
And allowing someone to appreciate it comes easily to me because of years of work to graciously accept compliments, even when I firmly believe the giver of the compliment is off their rocker.
The final thing is, my life is much better since I began this practice of graciously accepting compliments.  First of all, someone thinks I look nice - or whatever.  Awesome.  Second, the smile on their face or the general air of appreciation after a thank you without an argument about how wrong they are?  That is definitely worth the price of admission.  Making them feel good makes me feel good.  So much so that I’ve even gotten the second compliment of, “wow you are really good at accepting compliments.”  People are astonished by this.  And pleased, because they are as sincere in their compliments as I am in mine and they just want them to land well and maybe be a small bright spot in my day.  Sometimes I tell them my story - the one about getting annoyed by that anonymous person in the past and my resolution to graciously accept compliments.
You can’t go wrong with this.  Disagree all you want, but only in your head.  Let “thank you” come out of your mouth.  You’ll be amazed at how positive it is for everyone involved.
Once you start, you won’t be able to stop.  And I guarantee, all that positive?  It’ll make your life better, no way it can’t.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Todays Theme: When society agrees, think hard before you contradict


I was out for dinner with my friend Karla a few weeks ago.  We had a lovely dinner and a wonderful conversation.  At some point Karla said, “let’s go to Chocolate Springs when we’re done.  Oh, you can’t go there.”
No, it’s fine, we’ll go when we’re done.
If you’ve never been to Chocolate Springs, and you are a fan of chocolate, and you find yourself in the Berkshires, you really should go.  They have lovely chocolate and giant stuffed animals on super couches that you can snuggle with while you chat and eat chocolate.  What could be better.
That said, I had no chocolate, I just snuggled with a giant stuffed dog until a little girl came over and wanted to snuggle with the giant stuffed dog.
But before we sat down we were at the counter.  While Karla was looking I was speculating what I would have, assuming I ate chocolate.  There were some chocolate covered salted caramels that I noticed.  Chocolate covered marshmallows are a favorite, though they never seem to be as good as they should be, maybe because they aren’t melted.  Then there was a cappuccino cheesecake which looked amazing, though cheesecake can sometimes be too heavy.  Oh, wait, there it is - molasses cookie sitting next to a chocolate chip cookie.  They both looked fantastic.
Then there they were, the two things I wouldn’t be able to choose between had I actually been choosing - chocolate covered meringue and a chocolate covered gluten free chocolate chip cookie.
OMG.
In reality, if I was eating sugar, I probably would have walked out with the molasses cookie, a chocolate chip cookie, a couple of chocolate covered meringues, a chocolate covered gluten free chocolate chip cookie, a few chocolate covered marshmallows and a caramel or two.
And they would have been gone by the time I left my house the next morning, if not by the time I went to bed that night.
But, that is not the point of this entry.
Karla was giving her order to her friend, as I stood by, and then he took the tiny square plate and said, I have something you’ll really enjoy.  It already had two small squares of chocolate that she had picked out.  When he came back there were two more small squares, one for Karla and one for me.  She said, “Tara doesn’t eat sugar so I’ll just have to eat hers.”  Her friend said, “oh we have some dark chocolate in the back, no sugar.”
No thank you.
“There’s no sugar, I’ll get you some, it’s really good.”
No thank you, I avoid things that look like dessert.
“Really, it’s tasty and there’s no sugar, I’ll go get you some.”
No, thank you.  I’m all set.
In the past exchanges like this have pushed me to this type of response: NO THANK YOU I HAVE TOLD YOU FIVE TIMES I DON’T WANT ANY FRIGGING . . .
People want me to eat sugar.  My friends are really supportive and will often do what Karla did, hey, let’s . . . oh wait, you can’t.  At which point I will reset the boundaries, because I’m totally okay if folks are eating sugary treats around me.  I don’t mind if they are actively and vocally enjoying it around me.  Because seriously, why eat it if you aren’t really, really enjoying it?
I don’t let people tell me it’s awful when they are clearly enjoying it.  I’m not stupid, I can see that you are really enjoying it.  And it doesn’t help me stay away from it if you are lying, it’s just unproductive.
As I described this event to Cara as we ran through the woods and commented that people want me to eat sugar and said, if I were an alcoholic you wouldn’t offer me a drink, right?
She said, but society has accepted responsibility for protecting the alcoholic.  You are breaking the societal agreement we have that sugar is okay and that we enjoy it together in celebration.
Or something like that.
I assume that when Bill W gave up alcohol, back in the day, it was just as weird and people wanted him to join them.  I don’t know that for sure, but it seems reasonable to assume.
And, like I said, when I gave it up the first time I would get frustrated with people - I TOLD YOU, I DON’T WANT ANY DAMN DESSERT.
But the exchange I noted above?  I was quiet, accepting, and very clear, no thank you, I really don’t want anything.
It was the same quiet that I felt the week before I started the hypnosis when I asked myself if I was okay with the fact that this action may mean I never eat sugar again.  Yes.  Simple, quiet, but very clear, yes.
So I’m breaking the agreement with society, the one where we all enjoy sweet things because it is a biological imperative.  And people aren’t comfortable with that.  If I asked them, they may not see it that way, but I can tell by the reaction of new people when it comes up, it just doesn’t sit well.  And my friends, my very supportive friends, even with them it’s confusing and possibly uncomfortable.
But I am clear and comfortable in my choice.  And I am clear and comfortable in the fact that I can be the only person, I’m not asking anyone to join me.  I’m happy to talk about it, share my experience and my reasoning and help someone stop with the sugar in any way that I can, but I’m not interested in imposing my choice on anyone, I just want to live my life the way I choose.
Even if I’m breaking societal agreements.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Todays Theme: Mom's pumpkin pie


I am sitting at the kitchen table in Maine.  I’ve just finished my lunch,  a super tasty concoction of broccoli slaw, pickling cuke, ham, toasted almond slices and homemade vinaigrette.  I really can’t describe how much I enjoyed eating it.  My dad is wandering around preparing his lunch.  We’ve both been sitting here reading while I eat.  He had to wait because of medication.
Sitting here I started thinking about a vaguely amorphous dessert type thing.  Really just a concept of something allspicey and sweet.
Which, of course, made me think of my mom’s pumpkin pie.  Mom’s pumpkin pie has been much on my mind of late.  Today I am 106 days sugar free.  I have debated, occasionally, with myself over those 106 days whether I will ever indulge in sugar products again.
To be clear, when I talk about sugar I am talking about refined sugar, manmade stuff - Snickers, Birthday Cake, Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch, Hostess HoHos.  The sugar free of the last 106 days includes fruit and anything that turns into sugar.  Though I have added potatoes.
Yes, it can get very confusing.  But, for the purposes of this post, I am referring to refined sugar.  Actually, as a general rule, in this blog, for me and my issues with food, I’m referring to refined sugar.  That is why it’s important to actually know your body, it reacts to things differently than other bodies.  Read what other people have to say, but know how your body reacts to food.  Some people are highly reactive to bananas, I’m not.  Some people have no issues with watermelon, I might as well eat a Snickers for the sugar coma I get from watermelon.  Gather information - from inside as well as outside, it’s really important.
But back to my mom’s pumpkin pie.  It is full of flavor and creamy.  Mom cooks down the pumpkin herself.  The crust is whole wheat, crunchy and soft as well.  The thing that calls out to me most is the creamy texture and the cinnamony, allspicey, clovey flavor.
This pie is the one thing that has made me question whether I need to be 100% sugar free for the rest of my life.
One slice of pie, once a year.  What’s the harm?
I was talking about this with my friend Cara during a run through the woods the other day.
Let me just take a moment to tell you that whenever Cara and I get together we have these discussions and it is a rare day when we don’t have tremendous break through realizations, clarifications or great understandings.  Sometimes this is really painful, but it is always amazing.
So Cara and I were out on a run talking about our lives.  And I was talking about being 100% okay with never having sugar again.  Except for mom’s pumpkin pie.  And I described for her, as I did above though not in quite so much detail, why mom’s pumpkin pie calls to me.
She had two things to say about this.  First, it’s not really the pie.  At least it’s not JUST the pie.  It’s the history and the attachment to family and holidays with the family and the tradition.
Duh.  Of course it is.  The pie is amazing, but there was the year that mom didn’t cook down the pumpkin and had to make it with canned pumpkin and everyone said - Nancy, this will NEVER happen again.  We laughed about that a lot, but we also realized what a gift this completely homemade from scratch pie is to our family.  So, yeah, duh, it’s not just the pie.
The other thing she said to me was that recovering alcoholics describe the experience of a drink - going into the bar, the smell of the place, the feel of the stool, the glug from the bottle, the clink of ice, the sounds, the sights, etc - exactly the same way I describe some of my sugar experiences.
As I type that I think of the brownies I have made from Betty Crocker Gluten Free Brownie Mix.  They are amazing.  Pour the mix into the bowl.  Add the melted butter and egg.  Mix up the ingredients.  The dry mix turns a rich, dark, shiny, brown.  It is so thick that it doesn’t pour into the pan, it has to be scooped and then smoothed down.  Does all of it make it into the end product?  No way, it is so delicious looking when it’s mixed up and it’s so thick going into the pan that there is always plenty on the spatula to satisfy me until the brownies are out of the oven, cooled and cut.  They cook up incredibly moist and I let them barely cross the line to fully cooked and cakelike, so really they are almost underdone and very fudge like.  Then I make up some vanilla buttercream frosting - real vanilla, Kate’s butter, powdered sugar, almond milk (unless I’m making them for Tracy, she’s allergic to almonds).  I spread a really thick coating of buttercream frosting on the brownies and then I cut them into tiny one or two bite pieces.
And they are amazing.  The fudgey brownie and vanilla buttercream frosting melt in my mouth.  Seriously, no chewing is necessary.  But a bit of chewing moves the flavor around and renews it constantly until the bite is swallowed.  It’s rich and sweet and creamy and the combination of flavors is . . . well, I have no words.
If I could be satisfied with two of those one or two bite pieces, I might be able to eat sugar again.
But I can’t.
On Thanksgiving I will look longingly at my mom’s pumpkin pie.  I will smell it.  I will look at the texture of it on the side of a slice before my dad eats it.  I will be very tempted.  It’s not too sweet, maybe it won’t trigger . . .
But I know better.  I might eat a tiny sliver and be fine.
Until I’m not fine.
And then I’ll be living under 500 pounds of sugar again.
So I will continue to describe the experience of mom’s pumpkin pie or Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch or Snickers as if it happened yesterday.  Even though those experiences will continue to recede into my past.
If anyone would like the recipe, just let me know.  It's truly fantastic.  And I promise I won't judge.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Todays Theme: Letting go of being right


Recently I worked on a woman who did massage back in the days when you were a masseuse, as opposed to a massage therapist, and when a masseuse was assumed to be a sex worker.
She took control of the session right from the start.  She started giving me information before I had a chance to ask any question.  Possibly before I opened my mouth, I can’t really remember.  That can throw a person off.
She started on her medical concerns and issues.  She asked where I trained and what the focus of my training was.  She went back to her medical stuff.  She started speaking of the tension she experiences at points on the occipital ridge, was I trained in the points?
No.
She continued to rub her occipital ridge and mentioned a few other things.
Then she said, shall I get on the table?
No.
I have some questions.
I asked the questions I needed answers to, went through my spiel about undressing as much as she is comfortable, how to get on the table, that I would be back in a minute and I left the room.
Thinking, oh, this is just going to be awesome.
In case you can’t see it, that thought was dripping with sarcasm.  This was my first service of the day, 9AM, it was not looking good.  I’ve been a massage therapist for 12 years, I have worked for a chiropractor, a spa and a large yoga retreat, as well as maintaining my own small private practice.  In addition to my original training I have studied thai massage, reflexology, orthopedic massage, Lee Albert’s Positional Therapy Protocol, Reiki, prenatal massage, energy balancing, EFT.  I’ve been exposed to shiatsu, trigger point therapy and Trager.  Where I trained and the focus of my training, at the beginning of a 50 minute massage that will end at 10 till the hour, is not dispositive.
When I walked back into that room prepared for her to hate the session, to complain, to make my life difficult.
Again my client immediately took up control of the session.  Unfortunately it was long enough ago, and I didn’t write it up soon enough, that I can’t remember what she said on the table.
What I do remember is that it was not correct or accurate.
I also remember that a part of me wanted to lay it out.  Let her know that she needs to let the practitioner, me in this case, ask the questions and do the work.
Which, of course, is massively inappropriate and I would never do.
I took a nice, deep breath.
I find a nice, deep breath helps in every situation.  A nice, deep breath quiets the body.  A nice, deep breath quiets the mind.  A nice, deep breath allows time for perspective.
A nice, deep breath.  Suddenly this was all her thing, and I realized it didn’t need to be my thing.
Sure, she had controlled the intake, completely ignoring the fact that she maybe didn’t address everything I needed to know.  Sure, she was still peppering me with questions about my knowledge once she was on the table.  Sure, it felt like she was questioning my capability.
None of that made me less good at what I do.  None of that subtracted from what I bring to the table.  None of that actually made me less than what I am.  None of that needed to be part of my process.
It was all her process.  It only had to do with her needs.  All I needed to do was respond honestly and do what I’m really good at - work the body and the energy.
I walked into that room needing to be right.  Needing to be in control.  Needing the service to go follow my flow, my comfort.
Until I took a nice, deep breath and realized I just needed to do what I do.  And let her do what she does.
Letting go of the need to be right, to be acknowledged in a particular way, allowed me to experience the client, and her body, in the way I usually do, instead of through a cloud of righteous whatever.
She loved the work, told me I was talented and had wonderful energy.
I enjoyed it too.
Because letting go of being right and allowing is a truly beautiful place to be.1