Author: bikinisoul7

If you read my Bio, then you know that when I was a young girl, I wanted to be a singer or a writer before I got a bit older and set my sights squarely on being a good wife and mom. After more than a decade of having the things I wanted, I began to realize that beside my cyclical depression, I also was very discontent with life in general. I thought this was because my body wasn’t thin enough, my relationship with God wasn’t deep enough, and my marriage wasn’t healthy and loving enough. If somehow I could just achieve those things, then that elusive okay-ness that everyone else seemed to have could finally be mine. But deep down inside, I had no idea what I really needed to be happy.

Even after getting my marriage to what I thought was a better place, losing a bunch of weight, and taking a spiritual deep dive – I still wasn’t quite able to feel it. My marriage then fractured under the stress of financial and emotional trauma, and ended in a devastating process of complete loss. Still, I held onto the notion that maybe now that I was out of a bad relationship, happiness was just around the corner. What I didn’t see at the time, was that I was searching – not for happiness – but for freedom.

I learned about detachment from people, places and things in Al-Anon, and it was the first time I’d ever in my life tried to practice healthy boundaries. What didn’t come until much later were the boundaries I had to practice around the words and actions I directed at my own soul. Without even realizing what I was doing, those are exactly the boundaries which became the most important in my life, and which always tell me when I need to draw stronger lines with other people. I would literally say – sometimes dozens of times a day, “Nope. You will NOT speak to yourself that way. Would you say that to someone you Love?? You Love yourself. Be gentle and kind.” Since my focus of Bikini Soul was originally only about body acceptance, I would take that a step further, and say, “You will not engage in conversations about weight loss, diets, calories, size or reducing based exercise.” Then it expanded to any conversations about physical beauty pursuits and its insidious message of “not-enough-ness.” I would even make preparations about how to lovingly redirect or kindly excuse myself from such dialog if it came up. One day, I began to feel the thing I was longing for. True freedom. Knowing this, and working to protect it, has for me, been the only path to contentment and really embracing the immeasurable number of joyful moments, while riding the waves of difficulty with grace and courage, and a knowing that it’s all just part of the ebb and flow.

My idea of what it means to be a Bikini Soul has expanded so much since those early days, and there are no words to express how grateful I am to always be growing, and having a real impact on others. They have a saying in ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) “From hurting, to healing, to helping.” Amen.

Recently, I had an experience that really drove this home for me.

I am in the Seattle Peace Chorus, and we are currently preparing our second COVID-safe virtual concert. Our group is working on the Nina Simone tune “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to be Free” – a song for which I was asked to sing a solo. Some of the members of our white-ish chorus were a little worried about the appropriation of this Civil Rights song, famously lamented by a black woman who had suffered first hand the cruelty of the Jim Crow era. But at last week’s rehearsal the director of our sister chorus, and the reverend at a prominent Seattle Baptist church, joined our Zoom and gave us his encouragement and blessing when he said, “My brothers and sisters, as fellow singers – All of You are messengers of good words. And when you share your gift of song, with genuine feeling from your heart and soul – you are a vehicle to free the world.” He then asked, “If some of you feel you don’t have a right to sing this “Black” song, then I want you to ask yourself if there is more than one kind of freedom from bondage. Then ask yourself if you have ever felt trapped or imprisoned in a state that you wished to be free from.” He rested to allow a silent answer to the rhetorical question that had been posed to us. “Then you, my friends, have every right to sing this song. Sing for the freedoms you’ve gained, and sing for the freedoms you still wish for.”

I was overwhelmed with emotion as I realized all of the chains I have broken free from, and the certainty that as I conquer the few which remain, my freedom to live unapologetically as my true self, grows deeper and stronger.

In fact, this blog is a huge stepping stone on my path of freedom, and really the bringing to life, my childhood dreams – to be a “messenger of good words” with my voice. I cannot wait to triumphantly sing the verse, “I wish I could say all the things that I should say. Say ’em loud, say ’em clear, for the whole round world to here.” Yes. Indeed.

I went to The Summit at Snoqualmie yesterday. My daughter asked me to come along so I could help my look after my two-year-old grandson, Weston – while the older ones skied and snow-boarded with her. My duties would be walking the child ski-run alongside him, possibly pulling him along with a giant hula hoop, and taking rests as often as he needed. Well, it turns out Dad (my son-in-law), who is recovering from a back injury, decided to come along to make sure mom was comfortable driving their new larger SUV over the pass in snowy conditions, and to get out of the house for what promised to be a gorgeous day.

Here’s what I expected: hours of watching little Weston ski down the tiny incline several times, and pulling him with the hula-hoop setup until both of us were tired, interspersed with resting on cold uncomfortable benches along the outside of buildings – closed by the COVID pandemic – then eating snacks and lunch in the tail-gait of the car where my son-in-law would be working on his laptop with an unreliable wi-fi. In the late afternoon, I figured I might get to watch the older ones coming down the face of the bunny hill a couple of times before making the 45 minute drive back over the mountain.

As so many times before, my expectations were all wrong.

First of all, I completely forgot how freaking long it takes to get anywhere or do anything with one kid in tow-let alone four! The plan was to be on the road by 9:45, stop by Starbucks for hot drinks and brekky, and be at the slopes with time to spare for their 12-4pm lift passes. Instead, we left at 10:30, had two stops to make, then turned around because a phone was forgotten. On the road at 11. In the parking lot at 12. Thirty minutes of unloading and suiting up, then each person using the port-a-potty (requiring the removal of most of the snow gear they just put on), followed by a slooooow walk across an icy parking lot, a 50 ft trek up foothills covered in 10 inches of fresh powder and a winding uphill walkway to the ticket booth and lifts (with a struggling whiny toddler who was already over it). Carrying skis, boards, and bags filled with food and drinks for seven, everyone finally put polyethylene and fiberglass to snow at around 1:20pm.

Their were at least three dozen newish rubber coated picnic tables in the outdoor area, which were clean and comfortable, and where we gratefully set up. The older ones eagerly set out for the chair lifts. Then Weston got a few pulls from mom & dad, and skied the child hill, called “Magic Carpet” because of its conveyor belt lift resembling a carpet ride up the tiny slope. After two times up and down with dad’s help, Mom went to join the older kids, and I assumed I’d take over. But Weston had other plans. He was already cruising into his usual nap time, and was getting a little testy about continuing this cold and strenuous activity. Instead, he became fascinated by the family group of bronze bear sculptures in the sitting area, the fire pit, and the snacks in Grama’s bag. Weston got a second wind and had to be watched like a hawk by both my son-in-law and I, to avoid falling off the bear, getting too close to the fire, eating the treats I rationed – or wandering off into the crowded snow covered lift lanes. He hated wearing his buff and gloves and no matter how many times my son-in-law asked “Hey Weston, do you want to go ski some more?” He plainly stated, “No.”

Though I wish my toe warmers had worked a little better, I was amazingly comfortable for the almost four hours at our post. I had a great visit with my son-in-law, which I rarely get to have. I took a trek around the lifts at the base of the ski resort to look for my family members on the slopes, and though I never once got to see my daughter or older grand-kids come down the runs – I did get to watch people of all ages, races, shapes, sizes and skill levels come down a beautiful mountainside just for the joy and exhilaration of it. And after dad took Weston to the car for a nap around 3, I was there at the table for everyone to check in for a quick rest of their tired legs while they recounted a particularly difficult or fun run, a drink, a snack, to hold their layers of clothing when they got too hot, and give them back when they got cold again. I even became a bit of a hero when I gave up my waterproof gloves after my 10 year old granddaughter dropped one of hers from the chair lift, which allowed her to ski for an additional hour-and-a-half.

In the end, everyone in our group – skiers and non-skiers alike – had a blast and were properly exhausted as the 5 o’clock darkness set in against the snow beginning to fall under the streetlamps.What impressed me the most is that nobody let the hiccups and delays upset them to the point where they forgot why we were going in the first place – to have fun! Everyone showed remarkable patience, compassion, flexibility, and humor. I was so proud of my daughter and her family for this display of how to enjoy the journey. Sometimes a potentially amazing experience can be either derailed or enhanced by unexpected detours, and how we react to them – with frustration, anger and blame or acceptance, fluidity and kindness. Having a plan is great. Allowing things to unfold, and going with the flow is equally important.

Like skiing down the hills of Life itself, no run is ever exactly the same twice – we can anticipate without being attached to outcomes, and thereby experience the wonder and the joy in the unexpected.

I wrote this two years ago, to be posted on my then, non-existent blog. Now my blog exists! Yay!

Even though gyms are still closed for COVID protocols, I found the takeaway strangely still relevant, in numerous ways.

*January 10th, 2019*

I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in months. Been feeling sluggish, pain in my knees, feet back and hips… not to mention anxiety and stress hitting some all-time-highs. At 51, things begin to (or should I say continue to) break down.  But the rate at which it felt like it was happening was of growing concern. This led me to feeling basically much older than my age. Arrrggh. I know this process of showing and guiding women to their Bikini Souls must start with me. And sometimes that’s a restart. And another restart. Hell, maybe each day is a restart.

Don’t laugh, but my confidence in my fitness condition and therefore ability to keep up with any type of exercise class was basically in the toilet. So, when Mitch suggested we go back to the gym (Thank You, Honey!) I looked at the class schedule and decided I would take the Silver Sneakers class. Okay, you can laugh.

I honestly was afraid I might encounter a little ageism, like “Hey, you’re not old enough to be in here!” But I walked in, and gently asked one of the first ladies I saw what the class was like. She was very kind and gave a lot of helpful details. And, although at that point every single one of the forty, or so, people in the studio looked to be between 15-30 years older than I (there were even a few using walkers), I put my pride on the shelf, took my usual spot in the back row, and said to myself “WTH?? Why not?”

Turns out Silver Sneakers, unlike the many other group fitness classes I’ve taken, is highly adaptable. You can totally modify to work harder, with bigger movements, heavier weights, thicker bands, and continued standing during the sitting options. And I surprised myself in two ways. One, I got a pretty decent workout – one for which I am sufficiently sore today. And, two, I’m still in pretty good shape. The routine, as instructed, really was too easy (as it should have been). So, no, I’m not in the same condition as that subset of folks in their 60s, 70s, and 80s. Woo Hoo!!

All of that exaggerated defeating self-talk was untrue, and for nothing. SHIT.

I believe there is always a lesson when I experience ordinary moments, which cause significant emotional turmoil. And here were some important takeaways for me.

Firstly, the people in this class didn’t give two hoots about anything else other than being there and getting in their own exercise, for their own well-being. Hello?? Secondly, most of the class were struggling with the pace, and just about everyone was doing less than the spry 61 year old Filipina instructor. Yet, there they were, knowing they probably weren’t ever going to be able to keep up.

The folks in that class were a glimpse into my future. At my age, I still have some time to significantly improve my fitness, mental well-being, energy levels, balance and coordination. If I continue, I will get stronger and will be killing my Zumba, Yoga and SUP in no time.  But this group had a clear understanding that they very likely would make minimal improvements, and probably would not get into better physical shape than they were at that moment. Still they showed up. Let that sink in.  

The thing is, never have I seen a class so full and so filled with such beautiful souls, without even trying – in a health club setting. For someone, who’s mission in life is to turn the focus away from what we look like, to who we are – being in a gym is a huge challenge. Because it frequently feels like such a place of vanity, if I’m not careful, I can walk in and before I know it start judging myself and others. How much is he benching? How fast is she running on the treadmill? Why are you wearing that; it’s a gym not a strip-club. Does my stomach/butt/arms look as good/bad as him/hers? What a showoff!  Etc. Etc. Etc.

Being in the Silver Sneakers class reminded me that NONE of that matters, and letting it creep into my thoughts, serves absolutely no good purpose. Every single person is in that building, for their own personal reasons, with their own story, and with their own goals. The one thing we have in common is that it probably was not easy to get ourselves there in the first place. So, from now on, when I walk into a gym, or anywhere similar and that judgmental voice begins to distract me, I’m going to channel my inner Silver Sneaker. I will be even more committed to seeing everyone as absolutely beautiful, with all of their limitations, vulnerability, and insecurities – showing up and doing the best they can for where they’re at. Especially myself.  

Inauguration: 1. to make a formal beginning of; initiate; commence; begin; 2. To introduce into public use by some formal ceremony; install.

I watched with millions of Americans, as well as, brothers and sisters from around the world, as our 46th President of the United States was sworn into office this morning. I’m as hopeful as anyone about Joe Biden’s win, and what feels like saving our democracy from sure obliteration, had the outgoing administration been allowed to continue. But I’m even more hopeful for a reason which didn’t quite hit me until today.

America elected its first female Vice President.

Kamala Devi Harris.

She’s not someone who was elected because she’s pretty, or likeable, or relatable or even scandal free! She was elected because she is a woman of substance. Smart. Accomplished. Powerful. Commanding. Brave. Strategic. Fierce. She’s not a VP who will sit and wait in the background, in case she’s needed. NO. She was elected by the American people as much as Biden was, because our country has some serious work to do, and Kamala Harris knows how to get shit done. In fact, most women know how to get shit done, (dare I say, better than most men). And, we’re about to see what that looks like on the most grand scale, thus far.

I remember when I was a junior in high school and heard about the first woman vice-presidential nominee, representing a major American political party. I can probably only remember a few VPs by name in my lifetime, but I’ll never forget the name, Geraldine Ferraro. I didn’t know what platform she & Mondale were running on, nor did I care. My seventeen-year-old self just thought it was so amazing and cool that a girl might possibly reach such a lofty position in our society. As a child, I occasionally dreamed of being a singer or a writer. Because I had been raised in a home shrouded in sexism and patriarchy, once I started to move closer to adulthood, I thought the most important thing I could be was pretty and chaste, and my goal was to marry a good provider, who was handsome, kind and spiritual (if I was lucky) – and to be a loving and dutiful wife and mother. That’s it. The women I knew that worked did so because their husbands didn’t earn enough, not because they wanted to. College and career ambitions, solely for personal power and a thirst for knowledge and creativity, were only for the female outliers.

But Geraldine caused me to pay attention. And I’m grateful.

That was thirty-six years ago. And I’ve been paying a lot more attention. A lot has changed since then – in our world and in my life. Our country has gone through some serious ups and downs. I’ve experienced some exhilarating highs and devastating lows. And though the only constant is change, and everything is a work in progress, I know I’ve reached a pinnacle of growth and unlearning all those limiting beliefs. It feels like a brand new beginning; an initiation of sorts, an installation. My personal tipping point.

I won’t be having a formal ceremony, but I’m gonna take this day to celebrate, not only our nation’s new direction – but my own. Happy Inauguration Day, indeed!

Did you ever put an address into your Google Maps or WAZE, and then halfway to your destination you suddenly realize you actually want or need to go somewhere else? Maybe you forgot that there is an errand you need to run first. Maybe you realize it’s too late, that the place to which you were headed is now closed. And, maybe you just thought about it a little harder, and said You know what? I really don’t want to go there… The funny thing is, until you put the new address into your app, it will practically lose its algorithm-programmed mind, rerouting… rerouting… rerouting… if you veer even one turn from the course it had set you on – trying to get you to make any detours necessary, to right you on your “wrong” direction.

Okay, how about this one? Have you ever had the experience of putting directions into your app, and well into your route you have a feeling you’re going the wrong way – but you keep following the directions anyway? Maybe there’s construction, or a new street that the sattelite couldn’t pick up on, or maybe the navigation app just got it completely wrong! Not until Siri tells you you’re getting close to your intended destination, do you realize, and growl, Wait a minute! This isn’t right. Where I wanna go is on the complete other side of town… Ugh!

One more. Do you ever put a destination into your maps, even when you don’t really need to? Maybe you’re going someplace that if you just though about it for a minute, got your bearings, and charted it in your mind – you could navigate the trip just fine without any help.

I got to thinking today how often my life is a lot like my experiences with navigation apps, and it reminded me that I need to take inventory a bit more regularly, to ensure that I’m in the driver’s seat of my journey. Are there times I forget to REMOVE where I no longer want to go, from the destination tab in my life, so I can go forward without constantly being pulled in the opposite direction? Do I ever just follow mindlessly, for way too long, without realizing that this is not at all where I’m supposed to be going. And, maybe most importantly, do I always assume I need help finding my way, even when I know full well how to get there?

For me, these questions and patterns are all about fear. Fear of trusting my deep, inner, true self- and they put me squarely in the center of what one of my coaches called ANTs -(Automatic Negative Thoughts). I want to kick myself sometimes when I think of all the times I said “I can’t” or “I don’t know”; never mind saying “Yes You can!” or “You Know This!”… What a difference even saying “Let me try” would have made.

But I’m not on the path of kicking myself anymore. Getting to know myself, learning to trust myself and most importantly, Loving myself, exactly the way I am, and exactly where I’m at, are how I figure out where I want to go, and how I’m going to get there.

Joe Jackson once sang “You can’t get what you want, ’til you know what you want.” And since I was on auto-pilot for decades of my life, there are still days when I really struggle with this. The good news is I’m more aware; the bad news is I’m more aware. But, thanks to my recovery, uncertainty doesn’t paralyze me anymore. I guess you could say I’ve earned my place behind the wheel.

 This is my first blog post. I think I had to write that sentence out so I could know it’s real, and it might really sink in that this is my first ever fricking blog post! What’s the big deal? Well, I’ve been wanting to write a blog for about five years now, and probably toying with the notion for close to eight. And there has been nothing at all stopping me, except for the thoughts inside of my own head. Ugh! Why is it that we don’t do the things that we so long to do? No matter how much research is done on this subject, I still have yet to find a good enough explanation, that can translate into permanently removing the blocks that hold us back from easily entering that gorgeous flow state, and going back again and again-without hesitation or excuses. They say that a habit sticks after twenty-one days. HA! I did the “Whole 30” for ninety days, and eventually got back into my habitual way of eating (which is fine, since I now happily take a more mindful approach to what I consume) Still, I ditched every new W30 practice except for one; drinking coffee without sugar. For the five years since, I have only added cream to my coffee, but not sugar, the way I had for more than twenty years. Is that success? Is that the kind of progress we can hope to make in all areas of our life? God, I hope not.

The reason I pose these questions is because I’m wondering the same thing about writing, literally as I type this. Did I mention this is my first blog post? Just checking. The reason I have finally decided to post a blog is not because I finally won over the self doubt bullies in my head, and all of the ways that I procrastinate, but instead because someone told me to do it. And not just any someone. A teacher. Yep. I signed up for a college writing class, paid $600 dollars, and now I’m obligated, I guess. You could say she’s my writing “coach”, with a recommendation (read:transcript) that will follow me forever. And yet, even though I truly believe I have some very valuable things to say, I know I could drop out if I want; and I’ve thought about it at least a dozen times in this first two weeks. I just know, that as much as I hate to admit it, I am motivated by authority figures, and accountability. Still, taking the first step to even register, was something I’ve put off for a long time. So, what’s the deal? Why now? I’m still figuring that out in real time.

I always knew I wanted to name my blog “Bikini Soul” because it was a name I thought of to describe how I wanted to show up in the world, and where I wanted to focus my energy. Since then, I’ve had lots of good ideas and starts, but since I thought I had to have a consistent theme and structure, and that everything I said had to fit neatly and perfectly into the flavor and spirit of “Bikini Soul”, I just kept procrastinating until it was “just right”. I’m not even going to try and explain what that means, because I’m still figuring that out too. What I know is that Bikini Soul is me, and what I want to say will find it’s way, good or bad, easy to understand or completely bananas. Some people will love the voice and the message I bring, and others (gulp) will roll their eyes and dismiss it.  But, here I go, either way.

What I’ve learned in the first week of this class are two important things. One is, that If I want to be a writer, I need to, as Stephen King put it “Follow the Story” as it develops and leads you where it wants to take you. He said in one clip, the best way to ruin a good story is with a plot, and right then I thought maybe that’s why Bikini Soul has never come alive, Ive been trying to put the “plot before the horse.” LOL. The other thing I learned is that if you’re a writer, you must get comfortable writing- a lot – knowing that most of what you write will be edited so much that most of it never gets published or even saved to your computer. To someone who is so afraid to fail, believing that anything I do has to be outstanding from the get go, that explains why sometimes I never even try. Perfectionist thinking sucks!

So, here I am.

Bikini Soul is going to be about everything and nothing. Maybe it will touch on some important core topics, and maybe it will be a rambling of things all over the place. I think I’m beginning to understand that I’ll be discovering that as I go along. What I know now, is that wherever my writing eventually lands – with thousands of readers or simply in a stack of essays on my professor’s desk and on my desktop, I feel comfort in knowing my voice will not stay locked inside of me. And that feels really good already. Almost like a real writer.