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A few reasons why I heart Boundless Yoga

Jan 31, 2012

On a recent chilly Saturday morning, I found myself in an unusually awkward position. Somehow I’d managed to drag myself out of my lovely, warm bed and get over to one of Kim Weeks’ classes at Boundless Yoga, and I happened to be the most inflexible and inexperienced student in the studio that day. Bent over with one leg straight up and thighs trembling, all I could think was, “I’m not cut out for this. Everyone is looking at me. I should just get out of here.”
 
“Does this feel scary?” Weeks suddenly said, and for a moment I thought she was talking directly to me. “Honor that. Go into child’s pose if you need to.”

At least a third of the students dropped to their mats, me included. It was the first time since I began practicing yoga that I truly felt unashamed to be “that person” — you know what I’m talking about, the one who, along with the 75-year-old and guy with a back injury, just can’t do it, which is infuriating since I can do just about anything else I set my mind to.

As a former Wall Street executive, Weeks understands the stubborn mentality of the DC professional and is passionate about teaching people to listen to their bodies. After 10 years of running Boundless Yoga (and having two children in the process), she’s more than a professional yoga instructor – she’s a professional DC small business owner.

Read the full post on Borderstan.

Hitting the Reset Button on 2012

Jan 25, 2012

Getting dumped hurts, but what's worse is all the time you spend trying to figure out why it happened. And when your heart is involved, all logic basically goes out the window. Reading "He's Just Not That Into You" years ago revolutionized my life, and I ticked off several friends with this rationalization while they were going through break-ups. I get why now -- that answer isn't good enough when you feel like you invested your time, money, heart and energy into making something work. So you dissect the relationship and look for clues to solve The Mystery of the Disappearing Boyfriend.

By Monday night I'd had enough. I found myself asking the same questions over and over, and I began to fear that I would keep going in circles for months and ruin my new beginning that is 2012. I can't change the way I feel, but I can ignore it. I have more important things to focus on, right? I'm 30 years old, for goodness sake. I don't have time to mourn a guy. But my pep inner monologue wasn't quite doing the trick.

Then, last night, I was reading an old issue of Glamour, and I came across an article Mindy Kaling contributed about dating men vs. boys. Here's the excerpt that hit home:

Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I'll tell you why: Men scared the s*** out of me. Men know   what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn't on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they're thinking of kissing you. Men wear cothes that have never been worn by anyone else before....Men know what they want, and that is scary. 

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who "totally knows how to cut hair." Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have "gigs." Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival. Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don't have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30....

[Men aren't] afraid of commitment....I'm not talking about commitment to romantic relationships. I'm talking about commitment to things--houses, jobs, neighborhoods. Paying a mortgage. When men hear women want a commitment, they think it means commitment to a romantic relationship, but that's not it. It's a commitment to not floating around anymore.

There was my answer. Mystery solved.


So I've decided to hit the reset button on 2012. 

My Reset Button

This is now a crafting blog

Jan 19, 2012

There's a big difference between heartache and heartbreak. Let me explain with this helpful chart:


I've been considering the differences for the past couple of days, and I've come to an agreement with myself that I've had my heart broken four times:

1) I was 19 and had been seeing a totally losery loser who I thought I could fix, and he let me believe that for a long time. After a year he had mercy on me and dumped me, and I tried frantically to get him back, which just made me look looney. I found out later that not only was he cheating on me, he was a coke addict. Turns out you should probably have professional training in how to fix a druggie, so that was a lost cause. I was young, naive and hopeful, so I'm just happy he let me go when he did. I still get weak in the knees when I smell his cologne in a magazine or elevator.

2) After dating a couple more losers, I finally got it right with No. 2. We dated from spring till the end of summer when it was time for him to graduate. He told me over the phone (UNACCEPTABLE!!!) that he felt like he had to end things between us because he wanted to move to Florida and pursue his career, and he really needed to do that alone. I was supportive because I knew I also wanted to chase my dreams after college, and it made me feel even closer to him that we were so much alike. Eight months later I was tagging along with a friend to a party, and there I noticed a photograph, dated the previous month, with the hostess and No. 2. I asked her how she knew him, and she told me she'd met him right before he graduated, they'd gone out a few times and he'd invited her to visit him for her spring break. I heard later from a mutual friend that he felt really bad that I'd found out about her. Aww.

3) By the time I met No. 3 I was looking forward to the next phase of my life. I was graduating in a few months and was staying away from guys altogether so as not to mess up my plans to move across the country. So obviously I fell madly in love. He was a writer, had his own apartment in a high rise, listened to the same weird music I did, enjoyed fine dining and treated me nicer than anyone ever had (although he didn't have much competition). But, with No. 2 in mind, I stuck to my guns and cut things off at the end of the summer. It was devastating for both of us. He'd leave me voicemails saying he felt like he was drowning, and I'd cry myself to sleep often, reading his love letters to me over and over, searching for an answer. Except I knew the answer, because I was the one who answered it. It was over. We had to move on. He had to let me go. Eventually he did, and he went straight into the arms of a good friend of mine. They got married and she looked amazing on her wedding day, and then I knew he did not belong to me. I know it was crazy to think he did since I broke up with him and all, but the words you say don't always match the way you feel. Who can understand the heart?

After No. 3, I decided I would never feel that way again. Never again would I allow myself to be heartbroken. Yes, time heals the heart, but the scars kept getting worse each time. Being single -- or at least keeping walls up when you're dating -- is much, much safer. 

When I turned 30 last year, I was aware that I was somewhat alone. The weddings/showers/babies wave was (and is) still going strong amongst my friends and relatives, and I continued to attend each event without so much as being able to say, "Why yes, I am seeing someone, but he couldn't make it." But throughout the year I became quite comfortable with my status: 30, Single and Loving Life! 

And then I was blindsided.

4) I was going to California for the holidays, and I emailed an old friend who I've known for over a decade to let him know I'd be in town. In the course of our friendship we'd had feelings for each other at different times, but it never lined up. I'd resigned myself to just being friends with him, and from what I can tell so had he. He offered to pick me up from the airport, and as soon as I saw him, sparks flew. We saw each other every day I was there, and when it was time for me to depart, I knew I was in trouble. Only a week and I'd accidentally given him my heart. After a tearful good-bye, I turned and walked into the airport, willing myself not to look back. But I did, and he was still sitting there in the car. We had no plan for how to go forward except that he would call me and, as he said, "It'll work out." It did not work out. It all rapidly unraveled, and as each day passed I became more and more panicked that it was absolutely not working out, and I was losing control over the relationship, and he was pulling away, and the worse it got the more panicked I became until it all blew up. We realized we had a "communication problem." Great! I'm a professional communicator, I can handle this one, I thought. Two days later he told me it wasn't worth fighting for, and he wasn't ready to give up his life.

The first day I cried a lot. (Crying = Wailing, Drooling, Gasping for Breath, Staring at Nothing and Not Blinking Because There Was No Need Due to the Steady Stream of Tears)

The second day I analyzed it with friends a lot. (The consensus is that he is not mature enough to handle a grown-up relationship, and soon enough he will regret it, but I will have moved on.) (The problem with this theory is on the third day he emailed me to tell me he felt terrible and hoped I was doing okay. See Chart to determine which category he falls under.)

The third day I had to go back to work. I was a little tired, but I thought I was doing okay. Around lunchtime I went to the bathroom, and when I glanced in the mirror I noticed I'd forgotten to put on makeup and had on the previous day's mascara. So I'd forgotten to shower, too. I somehow made it through the day without getting fired, and when I got home I realized I'd forgotten my keys. I took out my phone to call someone who has a spare, but I'd failed to charge my phone and it was dead. I followed someone into my building and knocked on my neighbor's door to see if I could jump over her balcony to mine. However, I was stricken with fear when I tried, so she did it for me. I left her apartment to meet her at my door, effectively locking her out. She was able to get her spare key from her neighbor, so it all worked out, but I realized that I was definitely not okay. This was not heartache, it was heartbreak, and after seven years of avoiding it, I'm not sure how to deal with it.

Friday Timewasters, WOO!

Jan 13, 2012

I've had serious writer's block lately, for a few reasons:

1) I feel unnecessarily pressured to write a 2011 recap post, and I really, really don't want to reflect on 2011 because it kind of sucked.

2011 was basically the opposite of this, whatever this is
2) I decided not to make any New Year's Resolutions this year because last year I had one, ONE, and I did not fulfill it in the least. (I went to my doctor the week before Christmas, the first time I'd been since the week before Christmas 2010, and when the nurse weighed me she said, "Oh! You've lost a pound!" Fail.)
New attitude for 2012
3) I'm dealing with boy drama that I cannot talk about on my blog so as not to ruin the relationship, although I think I'm effectively ruining it without writing about it, but that's not the point. The point is, that part of my life is off-limits on the blog for now.


4) Somewhere along the way people began thinking this is a dating blog, and let me be crystal clear here: I AM NOT A DATING BLOGGER. I'm perplexed by this label and would like to get away from it. I know dating stories are the most fun to read, but I do not want to be known as a dating blogger for reasons I won't expound upon at this time. Dating is just one of the many things single people do, so occasionally I write about my terrible dates. I'm a lifestyle blogger. I have a lifestyle. It mainly consists of me watching exorbitant amounts of TV while I sit in my super expensive city apartment by myself eating night cheese, but still.

This is what I imagined as I wrote that. Amanda gets it.
Therefore, I present you a list of the best stuff I read this week, in case you're looking for something to do this afternoon:

1) War Horse: An Illustrated Review | January 9, 2012 | The Hairpin

2) Shows We Can't Believe Are Still on the Air | January 10, 2012 | Yahoo! TV

3) Pinterest: 13 Tips and Tricks for Cutting Edge Users | January 8, 2012 | Mashable

4) Post-Break Up Blog Post Titles | January 6, 2012 | Thought Catalog

5) Kate Middleton Birthday Advice: Reasons to Love Your 30s | January 9, 2012 | The Huffington Post
(I've conveniently linked it to the page that features yours truly. EEEEEEEE!!!) 

As for the future of this blog, I can't promise you anything anymore. 2012 is going to be a year of discovery for me, as I'm determined to try some new things that don't have everything to do with fun and not enough to do with personal growth (turns out being serious about my future and making a life for myself can be fun, too). Case in point: I recently began writing for the website Borderstan. Check out my first post here, and I'll make sure to link my other stories.

Thanks for sticking with me as I figure out what's next!