on being a teeny-tiny bit fearful to fully commit...

...hannah had this great advice for me...and while I can't post the entire email (out of respect for her/my privacy), I posted the eloquent and supportive little snippet I loved most of all...

...perhaps it's the expectation that may be getting in the way. maybe when we tell someone something about the past, we expect that "chosen" person to then be so affected that they'll be there forever, as a blanket to cover us, as love to protect and house us, so we'll belong... we're all like this... everyone's heart gets broken because that's the inevitable progress to adulthood. people break promises and sometimes they leave and disappear, but you'll always have you, and the universe, and the love in it. and sometimes that love brings people back to you as well.

p.s. This week is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week. What will you do to promote good health and acceptance of all bodies? For me, it'll be iyengar, followed by copious amounts of comfort food, a few glasses of Cab Sav, and lots of dancing (hello, cardio!)...because in my opinion, being healthy isn't always about moderation...it's about harmonizing the extremes.

downward facing dog.

I'll be doing a lot more of those from now on--along with some planks, trees, baby cobras, and savasanas. Today, I just closed my eyes, handed over my credit card, and joined an amazing yoga gym where all the women look like they don't need yoga. It's okay, if all goes well, I'll be there soon enough. But, it's about mental well-being, right? Riiiight. No really...I'll explain.

Several months ago, I "dumped" my therapist. I'd learned so much from her, like how to identify patterns--the negative, self-sabotaging kind. But there came a point when i felt the learnings slowing down, and that was my cue to move forward. At times, while I appreciated her insight and understanding, I really needed some instruction, someone to tell me not to jump off that bridge. Like many relationships, this one ran its course, and ended.

Several times since the "break up," I've given thought to what I'd do if I needed to resume therapy sessions again. Looking for a new therapist in New York is a daunting process--there are so damn many, and they've all written books on "loving YOU more," "winning at love," or "getting the love you want." Time was when it seemed all my friends here had therapists...now not so much. People don't have jobs, so they don't have health insurance, or maybe they're just finding other ways to cope with anxiety, addiction, loss, painful childhoods, and love woes.

It turns out my "other way" is yoga. Nothing new there really...I've always loved to practice, but after trying a week at this new-ish yoga/pilates/full-body-conditioning "ahhh come in, we love you here" studio in my neighborhood, I felt something different. Not sure if it's the lavender-scented mats, the huge multi-purpose rooms (lotsa props), or the super-human instructors, but I've felt this tangible sense of all-consuming happy energy after each class. I think they call it a "high." The type that you want to break in half and share with someone you know could use it. This must be how my-friend-Mer feels about her daily run, or another dear friend feels about ballet. Whatever it is, I feel good all over (channeling Stephanie Mills), and less inclined to run down aisle-hogging shoppers in Trader Joe's with my cart.

Another thing: During yoga, I don't think about my workday, or bills, or even what I'm going to be when I grow up. I'm in the moment...completely. And of course, trying not to focus on what the guy behind me thinks of my bum (which is also, by the way, very excited about the weeks ahead).

i promise to be more pleasant.

i do, and i really have sweet, sappy things to say (though, i've just been busy busy). But I haven't been able to wipe this news from my brain...and how awfully grim it is. You hear the stories, you read the news headlines about the "epidemic" in DC, but seeing it here in this shocking visual gives it a entirely different, dare i say--horrifying--dimension. My jaw dropped when I saw this. My city *sigh*

p.s. and let's add another layer, shall we? DC is not a state :-(

vanity is good for your health.

The only reason I haven't smoked a cigarette in two days is b/c I don't want my hair to smell like an ashtray. It took 2 hours to flat iron, and I'm not throwing that away for 4 minutes of nicotine-laced joy.

And then, there's this buzz about third-hand smoke. The message here: Don't smoke when your kids are around you...duh. Oh, and don't smoke in your house or car if you have kids, and don't let your kids sniff your hair after you've finished smoking.