Monthly Archives: August 2014

Need Help Unwinding?

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Chuck at his desk. The massage room is the open door on the right.

Chuck at his desk. The massage room is the open door on the right.

I knew I had waited too long even before I was on the massage table. For weeks I had a big knot in the back of my neck.  I grimaced each time I did a jumping front kick in Tae Kwon Do unless I was sparring. While sparring I’m totally in the moment–it is kick or be kicked.

The knot, scientifically known as a myofascial trigger point, was shifting my head to the left so much so that I thought I would be wearing a neck brace soon if I didn’t take care of it.

I called My Serenity and made an appointment with Charles Nowicki, Massage Therapist.

Years ago, I was referred to Chuck by a friend.

Generally, that’s where you find your massage therapist or handyman – through a reference. If someone is working on your house or your body you want them to be someone you trust.

The first question Chuck asked me is if this would be a head to toe massage or neck and shoulders.

I turned my neck, felt the ball of knotted twine. I said, “Let’s start with the neck and shoulders and see how far you get.”

My massage was for ninety minutes. My neck was such a mess, I thought we might not get any further.

After pouring lotion into his palms, Chuck rubbed his hands together. I lay face up on the massage table. He reached under my head and with his thumbs he began working on my taut band of neck muscles. There was a weird rice crispy popping, cracking, and crunching sound as he pulled, rubbed, and stretched my neck muscles. The large knot became smaller and smaller. Then he found new muscle knots.

Muscle knots or “trigger points” are small patches of super contracted muscle fibers. His pressure on my muscle knots was a good pain as he kneaded my neck on both sides by digging his thumbs and fingers, and gently squeezing them together.

I breathed deeply and focused on the knots evaporating under his touch.

Chuck doesn’t advertise his services. You won’t find a website. His clients, from all walks of life, come to him by referrals. He has a home office.

I sat on the couch while Antonio got a massage

I sat on the couch while Antonio got a massage

I brought Antonio when he was 11 years old for a massage. He was complaining about stiffness in his body that wouldn’t go away. I sat on the couch next to the massage table while Chuck worked on him. Antonio has asked to return.

Chuck finished with my neck and moved to other parts of my body–back, arms, palms, fingers, legs, and even the bottom of my feet.

He awakened in me the realization that attached to the bones of the skeletal system are about 700 named muscles that make up roughly half of a person’s body weight. (I’m kidding. I looked that up.)

Chuck is quiet. We don’t talk during the massage. I am happy to be nonverbal and listen to the flute music that he has playing while he locates my knots, applies deep compression until the pain and discomfort dissipates.

There is a faint scent in the air from the massage lotion he uses. Crystel likes to smell me when I come home.

When my ninety minute massage was over, I asked Chuck how much I owed him. “$50.00,” he said.

“Oh, no. I have to give you more than that,” I quickly replied. And then I made my next appointment.

 

Why Get Married?

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P8100024-1-2reducedJody and I are asked that question. Maybe we were asked that because we were married 12 years ago in our backyard. And that person thought that celebration was perfectly fine so why do it again?

The question made me stop and think. Why was getting married on August 10, 2014 important to me?

A myriad of reasons.

The most significant is that getting married made me feel legitimate.

Regardless of your political leanings my not being able to be married as a same sex couple and having the same lawful standing as my heterosexual neighbors is as close as I can get to how illegal immigrants in our country must feel.

You always stay a little hidden. A little under the radar. Don’t make waves. Someone might not like your relationship, your family and you will be discriminated against.

Discrimination is undeniable.

P8100031-1reducedToday I feel seen. I feel valid. I feel rightful. I have a partner. And her name is Jody.

This blog isn’t a political rant. Jody and I aren’t activists. We’ve quietly lived our lives as a couple on our cul-de-sac, with the same ups and downs, the same challenges as all couples. We have two children. We worry about them as you do yours.

Often we’ve had our children’s friends and parents over to our house to show how normal we are. Antonio was in Scouts and I was a den leader; Crystel in Scouts and Jody a troop leader. Antonio in soccer. Crystel in dance. All of us active in Tae Kwon Do.

Being a Police Reserve Officer I always hoped that ‘badge’ carried a little bit of weight when we were being sized up as a different kind of family.

P8100034-1reducedI hoped people saw us as safe even though we were a same sex family.

Jody and I never thought that same sex marriage would be legal in our lifetime. And, I’m not sure that either of us cared. We were going to do what was right for us and protect ourselves by having a will, power of attorney, assigned beneficiaries, second parent adoption, and the same last name.

12 years ago, August 10, 2002 flowers had opened to their utmost bloom and spread their green leaves their widest. Bees darted for nectar, dragonflies with iridescent wings dropped to the swimming pool for a quick drink. Butterflies watched from the fringes of the yard.

P8100020-1reducedMy wedding dress was sky blue, sleeveless, floor length, with a swoop back. It brought out the blue in my eyes and matched my toenails. Jody’s dress had the same design, and was champagne.

P8100021-1reducedMy niece, Jenny, was our flower girl, laying rose petals along the pool where we walked to the gazebo for the ceremony. Barefoot, we felt the softness of the roses.

Aunt Jo, my mother’s sister, an ordained minister, performed the Holy Union ceremony.

75 friends and relatives surrounded us while I told Jody, “I take you as my life companion. I pledge to share my life openly with you – to speak the truth to you in love. I promise to honor and tenderly care for you – to cherish and encourage you – through all the changes of our lives.”

And she, in turn, said the same to me.

155999_10204865713428150_1746575820117958063_n[1]12 years later, August 10, 2014 we did it again.

But this time 150 friends and relatives surrounded us, our lives having grown twice as large because of our children and because we ourselves had grown.

Crystel was our flower girl and best lady. Antonio our best man.

Our Officiant was Minister, Judie Mattison. Butterflies and dragonflies once again danced among the attendees.

And when “All of Me” by John Legend played and the words, Love your curves and all your edges All your perfect imperfections Give your all to me I’ll give my all to you, Jody and I held hands, rotated in the gazebo and slowly turned to face all of you- – –

P8100136-1reducedMy mother-in-law, sisters and brother in laws, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, fellow writers, Tae Kwon Do peeps, school and work friends, friends from long ago, and next door neighbors.

Then right before the ceremony ended we rotated once more and breathed in your good wishes and blessings to the music of Gloria Estefan. If I could reach, higher Just for one moment touch the sky  From that one moment In my life I’m gonna be stronger Know that I’ve tried my Very best I’d put my spirit to the test …

and we came out of hiding.

 

 

 

Tried-and-True Approaches for the Time-strapped Writer

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The WordSisters have been invited to participate in another blog tour about writing processes, this time by novelist Cynthia Kraack, author of MINNESOTA COLD and the Ashwood Trilogy. She just released the final book in the series, LEAVING ASHWOOD. To learn more about her books and blog, visit cynthiakraack.com.

When asked about my writing process, I’m often baffled—writing processes are as individual as the writers in question—will my process really be helpful to others? But many writers struggle with the first step in the writing process—finding time to write, so I’m offering some suggestions.

Never give up

Finding Time to Write Your Blog, Novel, Memoir or Poems

Our creative writing competes with work, family, or household responsibilities. It’s easy to get discouraged and think, “How will I ever get this project finished? If only I had a week/month/year off. And a wealthy patron.” Here are several tried-and-true approaches for the time-strapped writer:

  • Every day, set a timer and write for 20 minutes. When I heard about this method, I was skeptical—20 minutes doesn’t sound like enough time to do anything substantial! But Jill, a member of my nonfiction writers’ group (and the person who gave WordSisters our name), takes this approach and drafted a novel over the course of a year—20 minutes at a time. Even if you skip a day, the writing time adds up to 2 hours per week.
  • Set aside 2 hours every week for writing. I wrote the first draft of my memoir in 2-hour hunks every Saturday over the course of a year. For my blogs, I usually allow 2-3 hours within a two-week span. I draft a blog in one sitting and revise it another time or two after that. Oh yeah, because my writing time is so precious, I’ve learned to turn off my email and cell phone while I’m writing—amazing how much more I get done without any distractions. The world can wait!
  • Write while traveling. I recently connected with Dan von der Embse, a poet who frequently travels and uses his inflight time to write.

What’s common to all of these approaches is that although the available time is limited, each writer is committed to writing and has created a significant body of work by using the time she or he did have.

Eliza Waters blends writing with exquisite nature photography, and her blog is the next stop on this tour. Through her words and photos, she offers readers a breath of fresh air as well as insightful commentary. Be sure to check out her blog!

Finding Time to Promote Your Blog

While I’ve acquired the discipline to blog faithfully, I regularly wimp out when it comes to systematically attracting new readers to the blog. I’m uncertain about what to do so I avoid doing anything. Great strategy, huh?

Please share your wisdom! What has helped YOU find (or grow) your audience?

Thanks!

Writing Memoir Is Risky Business

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Last fall I finished revising my memoir manuscript, BRAVADO AND A SKETCHY VISION LED ME HERE, and I shared it with several friends and family members before I started seeking a publisher. All of them were familiar with the basic premise of the book: it’s a coming-of-age-in-the-workplace story that takes place in 1979-1980. As a young woman, I was unsure about how to apply my feminist principles to my own life—What did I believe? How far was I prepared to go in pursuit of a career? How much did having a relationship and a family matter to me? If I wanted all three, how would that really work day-to-day?

Sharing the manuscript is scary. I’m exposing my personal life. To judgment – (Your life is boring. Your experiences don’t matter.) To criticism – (The writing is amateurish. The book is poorly written.)

Writing about my own life means I’m also writing about friends and family in my life. Real risky business. They didn’t ask to be in my book or become part of my creative project. They may resent the intrusion. Hate how I’ve characterized them. Even if I don’t intend to, my words can hurt people.

There’s a risk that my family won’t like what I’ve written. A risk that goes beyond embarrassment or irritation about the portrayals. More like – “I don’t care for memoirs—all that emotional stuff. I’d rather read a spy novel.” OK, I can handle that. Tastes vary. Vampire novels may be great stories, but they don’t appeal to me.

But if someone dear to me said, “I’m worried that although I love you, I might not like your writing,” that would be hard. I’d have difficulty separating my relationship from my craft, which is my passion and my life’s work.

I’m exposing my innermost thoughts. Often they’re innermost for a reason—sometimes because they’re painful. Embarrassing. Unworthy. Or stupid. As a writer, I’ve learned that the painful and embarrassing moments are most worth exploring—they’re most likely to yield the material that others really connect with.

The story I’m telling is only as good as my craft. As a memoirist, I use my writerly skills to shape the stories I tell. I decide which incidents, feelings and insights will create a story arc and which are extraneous details and better omitted. I use my powers of description, write dialog, and mine my memory for details. I’ve learned to check facts instead of trusting my memory (The lecture happened in February, not November as I recalled) so I can present a scene as accurately as possible. My skills or shortcomings as a writer determine the value placed on my memoir.

Why take that risk? Some memoirists write in hopes that they can teach others. That’s not what motivates me. Instead, I hope others will recognize something about themselves – “That frustrates me, too.” They’ll enjoy a moment of reminiscence – “OMG, that happened to me!” Or they’ll realize that they’re not the only one – “Wow, I’ve thought that, too.”

Despite the inherent risks, I examine certain periods of my life to find and share meaning. My experiences are worth writing about, not because they’re mine, but because they’re human and other people will see themselves in some of the central truths of my life, even if the particulars differ. For example, other working women have worried about pay and workplace politics. Today, some young women still wonder about how to balance a relationship with a career, just as I did. Other middle-aged women are looking back and considering their legacy.

If you write memoir—what makes it worth the risk?

If you read memoirs—why do they appeal to you?