She Speaks on Her Birthday

Posting a message of vulnerability on my 61st birthday. Life has flown by. The muscles are smaller and the wrinkles are deeper, but I am blessed. We all have our own unique journey and our bodies tell our stories. I’ve had challenges that have dragged me through the bowels of Hell, and still consume me, but I have life, family, and a few good genes that keep me going. I’ve lived with the old motto: “Never let them see you sweat.” (except when I’m racing in competition, that is)


I’d love to say that I don’t bruise easily, but I do. I take the high road when I can. I have a bit too much empathy at times and not enough at others. I start every day in gratitude, and smile at strangers. I’m fiercely protective of my family, friends, and clients. I never give up.


Some random facts. I break electronics. Computers hate me. I save clothes for years. I collect hot sauces. I can pick up dog poop all day long, but I threw away my babies clothes when I potty trained them, because I couldn’t deal. I might have a blanket hoarding problem. I once owned 5 dining sets and only had one dining room. At the start of every live stage performance, when the orchestra strikes the first cord, I cry. I was beaten up by girls when I was a child. I was raped by a man when I was an adult. I say “fuck” a lot. For a short time in college, I smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day. I saved my best friend from drowning in 8th grade. I love Hello Kitty. I hate playing cards. I’ve never eaten an oyster. I have panic attacks. Babies are my favorite thing in the world.

I can’t say that I agree with the number 61. I feel 40. I think there’s a math mistake on the calendar. I have a lifetime ahead of me and wonder when I will feel old. Perhaps never? Oh there are days, but they don’t last. I won’t let them. I’ve endured two serious head on collisions, nearly severed my arm in one, and split my head open in the other, resulting in a three day coma. The physical damage to my spine is severe. My Chiropractor once told me he preferred I wear a neck collar if I ever go in the ocean. Right. Nope.

My advice? Wake up every day excited about the possibilities. Find beauty everywhere. Tell your family you love them often. Accept help. Kiss a dog. Stretch. Walk, run, jump, swim! Get out in nature as often as possible. Listen to water flowing. Meditate. Floss. And For Fuck’s sake, LAUGH A LOT. (Especially at yourself)

This passage showed up on my Facebook feed today. So fitting.


Silver~
“How many years of beauty do I have left?she asks me.How many more do you want?Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.
When you are 80 years old and your beauty rises in ways your cells cannot even imagine now and your wild bones grow luminous and ripe, having carried the weight of a passionate life.
When your hair is aflame with winter and you have decades of learning and leaving and loving sewn into the corners of your eyes and your children come home to find their own history in your face.
When you know what it feels like to fail ferociously and have gained the capacity to rise and rise and rise again.
When you can make your tea on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon and still have a song in your heartQueen owl wings beating beneath the cotton of your sweater.
Because your beauty began there beneath the sweater and the skin, remember?
This is when I will take you into my arms and coo YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING you’ve come so far.
I see you.Your beauty is breathtaking.”
~ Jeannette Encinias

Be Who You Are

Be who you are, and don’t let someone else try to change you.

I wear multiple professional hats. I’m a coach, a realtor, and while living in Montauk, NY I also work in the restaurant industry. Currently I work at a restaurant an average 45 hours over 6 days per week and I track about 6.5 miles of walking per shift. Oh, and I also manage my Airbnb, which means that every week I clean and prepare for new guests. To say that I have time to do my normal workout routine of swim, bike, and run, would be a gross overstatement. I fit in what I can when my 60+ year old body allows. I love the pace of my life and the variety of things that I choose to do. You might find me on my computer at midnight constructing athlete schedules and reading logs. Or at 5am, preparing sale documents and repair negotiations for the properties I currently have under contract.

Three years ago I took a gamble and made a life changing decision to move my home base to NY. By the grace of God, the cooperation of a stellar business partner, and the most amazing clients in the world, I am able to successfully manage real estate sales in Portland, and keep my business going.

In the past year I have become a Certified Personal Trainer, in addition to my Running, Swimming, and Triathlon Certifications. I have taught group swim clinics around the US and in Canada as well.

Recently, someone I know called me lazy on FB. Here are the quotes aimed at me: “Sadly so many like yourself chose not to work hard” “You used to be a hard motivated worker” “please educate me with your vast knowledge of running a business.” I have thought about these words a lot.

Another person called me “Ignorant personified” “hypocritical”, and that I think the “world revolves around me” in one of three rabid emails after I blocked him on FB for saying horrible and untrue statements about me and my family.

This morning I went for a short run around the lake in front of my house. I felt energized and blissfully happy! I had no particular goal or focus for this run, other than to enjoy the slight cloud cover and the ocean breeze. To be able to live in the moment of this run was a bit out of the ordinary for me, because I am an extreme planner. GOALS,GOALS,GOALS!

During my run, the cruel (and completely false) words thrown at me by the two men came to mind. I got angry all over again. I am constantly telling my athletes that they have to “run their own race”, “don’t compare yourself to other people”, etc. I realized that these two people who happen to be men I’ve known for a long time, obviously didn’t agree that I should be who I am.

We all ride this giant ball around the sun together. There is beauty and there is ugliness. I’m an empath and an adventurer. It took me almost 55 years to shed some layers of damage and emerge to discover who I was as a woman. Those layers continue to break away and despite huge private challenges, I am absolutely in love with the woman that is emerging. I have energy, I have a family that gives me breath and love, and I have a body that is strong and resilient. If you can’t handle that, then bye bye. Nobody in this world has the right to demean other people for your own personal gain.

My message to anyone that cares to listen is this. Stop listening to the negative. Stop letting people bully you. Shut out the noise. Be vulnerable to yourself. Cling to your family. (Disclaimer-if you have a toxic family situation, this does not apply. Please find help) Spend time in quiet reflection. Ask your self ALL the questions. Allow fear to emerge. Find ways to tackle that fear. LAUGH AT YOURSELF. Get outside every day. Get in nature as often as possible. Sing. Stretch. Breathe. Reach out and tell someone your dreams. Listen to someone else’s dreams and fears. Be authentic. Look people square in the eye. Stand up tall. Believe in yourself and your journey. Get help to do the things you’ve always dreamed.

And for Heaven’s sake, if and when someone talks down to you, or belittles DON’T TAKE IT.

I Lied About Covid-19

Today marks 3 months since I considered myself “recovered from Covid-19”. But I am still not fully recovered. And here’s the truth. I lied about it. I’ve come to terms with the lie, and I know why I did it.

Oh, I don’t mean that I lied about HAVING the virus. I mean I lied about how it affected me. Surprised? Well if you follow me, know me, or are related to me, you might be able to figure it out.

Let’s face it. I’m a survivor. I’ve survived two near death head on car collisions. Two failed marriages. A huge financial loss. An Auto Immune Disease. An almost catastrophic health crisis in 2016. A 3,000 mile, cross country solo move in 2017. I’m a self professed Warrior Woman. A Honey Badger. “I don’t give a shit”, right? Well I’m also a motivator, caretaker, and empath. When I took a career evaluating personality test 25 years ago, the analyzer told me that I required multiple outlets of significance. That’s me! “Squirrel!” Where’s the next humungous challenge?

People applaud my strength, my tenacity, bravery, adventurous spirit, and fearlessness. I do too. I wear my accomplishments like badges. They hold me up and I can look to them when I feel vulnerable and weak, and they help me face another day.

But I lied about Covid. To my family. To my friends. To myself. I wanted so badly NOT to be a weak, vulnerable, sick person, that I downplayed it. I posted videos on social media, pretending all was well. I brushed it off as being allergies, or a sinus infection. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I didn’t want the attention. I wanted to be inspirational and motivating during the self quarantine. It worked for a while. People liked my videos and message. I felt a responsibility to hold my followers and family up while everyone was scared, bored, frustrated, and lonely. Until I couldn’t.

But the truth is, I was more sick than I admitted. And that made me angry, frustrated, and very frightened. I just didn’t want to admit it.

I’m the only one that I know of in my entire extended family that contracted the virus. My family is spread out in over 7 states. Each state has its own Covid numbers and stages of infection. Nobody knows where this thing is going and I’m concerned about losing a loved one.

I downplayed my illness because I have to be the rock. I’m the one that holds everything together. I can’t let anyone see the cracks. Let me tell you the truth and you will know why I will continue to lobby for masks, social distancing, and yes, even closures when it is necessary.

I wouldn’t wish this virus on another human being. I have children and grandchildren that give my life meaning, and if any of them got this virus, I actually don’t know what I would do. I was lucky. I was never hospitalized. Had I driven the 40 or so miles to the nearest hospital, however, I have no doubt that they would have admitted me. While I told my kids and siblings that I was miserable but fine, I was really terrified that I was going to die. During the throws of the high fever days-about a week, the misery I experienced caused me not to care whether I lived or died. I’m talking abut losing the will to live because the pain was so intense. With all I have been through, this was the first time I have experienced this sensation. I DIDN’T CARE IF I DIED.

Of course, the thing that kept those thoughts from fully surfacing was the all consuming love I have for my family. I truly credit them for giving me the strength to overcome this beast. I spent 17 days in Hell before there was any steady relief. Almost 10 of them were mostly in bed, except for the fact that I had 3 dogs that needed to be taken outside. The effort it took to get out of bed and walk out the door resulted in collapsing in bed for 3-4 hours of painful sleep. I was in so much pain, it felt like my bones were breaking. Breaking over and over again for almost a week. That kind of pain, where the skin on your abdomen screams for the mere fact that your shirt happens to be touching it, is indescribable. My cough was dry, constant, and rib rattling. It lasted a month. I pulled muscles from coughing. Each cough set my headache through the roof.

I experienced confusion to the point that I couldn’t watch TV, eat, read, or function. I was alone and didn’t eat for 5 days. I lost all desire to eat or drink anything, all the while experiencing incredible thirst. There was a metallic taste in my mouth and I was nauseous to the point of vomiting several times. The severe lower GI stress lasted 5 days. The headache and fever were fierce and relentless. I’d put the blanket over my eyes and stay as still as possible, hoping that would give me some relief. No amount of rest or Tylenol helped. In the midst of this, I also developed a sinus infection. My doctor called in a prescription, which took 8 days to give me relief. I forced myself to eat broth when I started taking the antibiotics, so that I wouldn’t have the side effects that are common with those meds.

The recovery began at day 17. It was slow. The cough lingered for another 2 weeks. The confusion- a little longer. My lungs are still not operating at capacity. I’m a multi marathon runner, Ironman, and distance swimmer. I can still barely run 4-5 miles or swim more than around 900 yards. I’m gasping for air after each 100 yard easy swim. THREE MONTHS LATER. I’m taking great care of myself these days and getting as much sleep as I can.

The lesson for me is that my ego is not bigger than this virus. It defeated me for while, even though I denied it the whole time. I lied about it. I’m not lying now. I was scared and afraid to go to sleep at night. I pray no one in my family gets this monster. When people talk about the relative low percentage of deaths, I wonder, what the heck is wrong with them? Are they forgetting about the one’s that have to live through it? Do people like me, or God forbid the unfortunate one’s that are put on ventilators, lose limbs, need dialysis, go blind, or any of the myriad other horrible effects matter? This is not an “all or nothing” virus. It is a cruel, ugly bastard that can take a healthy human being of any age, and completely ruin their life.

So when you mock me on social media and call me a “sheep” because I wear a mask in public, I don’t care. When I anger you because I push for mass testing, social distancing, and smart practices, now you know my motivation. Call me any name you want. I actually care about your health. I care about mine and my family’s. Wear the damned mask. Stop arguing with business owners who ask you to wear one. You have no idea who is vulnerable-and it could be YOU.