Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Your Inner Basset Hound

I think one day I'd like to write a book series called, "Ralphie," a collection of stories about an anxious basset hound by the same name. Maybe my friend Dan or Tessa will draw the pictures for me. There will be titles that loosely reflect my own experiences, such as: "Ralphie and the Sleepover," "Ralphie and the Big Scary School Bus," "Ralphie's Road Trip to California," and "Ralphie Ralphs on an Airplane (AGAIN.)" I guess if we follow Ralphie through adulthood we can expect books such as: "Ralphie Decides to See What Psychedelics Are All About," "Ralphie Learns to Drive a Truck," and "Ralphie Moves to Texas."

Before I got Guthrie, who appears to be a mix between a hound dog and a Great Dane, and I been thinking about adopting a Basset Hound. They're just so funny- I think their comic appearance appealed to me more then anything else. They are adorable puppies and weird looking adult dogs, with saggy eyes and funny wiener dog legs and dinosaur sized ears. But they've got character, and if there's one thing I admire in people and dogs, that's it. That, and a tender heart. 

I went back to see my therapist recently for a little tune up. I still feel funny writing that, like maybe I should call her my spirit guide or really observant cheerleader, or something. In any case. it was great to see her and she reminded me again that an anxious mind is not something you can think your way out of. She suggested I run 3-6 times per week, because, quite frankly, the best thing I can do is stop thinking so much and just get some of this energy out.

So I have been running more, dragging Guthrie with me, and I do feel much better when I get home, sweaty and spent. It's very different from walking or biking, which I do everyday. I'd like to start swimming, too, so one day when I'm eighty I can be just like my Grandpa Dave. :)

On a side note, we were taking a morning walk yesterday and Guthrie wasn't paying attention to where he was going, and he ran his head into the bumper of a parked SUV. I kid you not.

Last night I was checking my Facebook, and I felt myself starting to slide down the rabbit hole. It's all the same shit, the habitual feelings of sadness, the FOMO (fear of missing out), the incessant comparing of myself to others. I must say, a positive fallout from the Facebook phenomenon is that it has been a boon for therapists nationwide. Both my Mom and the lady I see tell me that they have multiple clients, particularly women, who come to them in tears saying things like, "I saw a picture of my friend's wedding, her marriage is so perfect and love will never work out for me." Just as a reminder, in case you have been spending too much time on Facebook: EVERYBODY has their shit, even if they have handsome husbands or new babies or a killer sense of style. Myself included.

So, instead of sliding down the proverbial rabbit hole I decided to make a change of course, so I logged off and typed in: "Basset Hound Puppies" into Google instead.

I figure when all else fails, looking at goofy puppies is better then subjecting oneself to social media. 

The shots that really got me were of basset hounds running.  Here is an example:

 
Here is another one:



See? I'm laughing again! Looking at this made me think about my therapist's suggestion to start running more. Although I have decent running form, I think this is what I feel like on the inside sometimes. We all have our inner basset hound, who just needs to run down the beach, little paws akimbo, losing their shit. 

I have also been working on mindfulness lately, slowly trying to re-train my brain to live in the present. I can do it for about 20 seconds at a time right now- watching a tall patch of grass blowing in the wind, a candle on my windowsill, taking a few deep breaths on the front porch. With practice, I will be able to stick with this exercise for longer, and perhaps one day I will be fully present with my cheese sandwich and bowl of tomato soup, savoring each bite, instead of worrying about what it will be like to parent a teenager, before I am even pregnant. (Although to be fair, parenting teenagers is pretty fucking frightening.)

I guess the moral of the story is that when it comes to running, or mindfulness, the goal is to break it up into smaller pieces. This actually speaks to what I was writing about a few weeks ago, regarding Procrastination and Perfectionism. When we feel overwhelmed by the task at hand, doubtful of our capacity to roll with the punches and take risks, that is a sign we may need to start smaller. My goal this week was not to run a half marathon, or even train for one! It was to run three times, to the pond by my house, and back. And my goal for writing this week was not to pen the first chapter of the next great american novel- it was to write a post about basset hounds. 

The hard part is knowing that I have to do this every week, and slowly start biting off bigger pieces as I am ready. And maybe one day I will run a marathon, or write a book series. Just not today. For now, I will take it as it comes, and try to harness my inner basset hound. And when I am done for the day, I will lay my head down and rest, just like this little guy.








 

Friday, October 18, 2013

Words and Pictures

That thing happened again. That thing where I meant to write the week after I wrote the last thing, but then a month went by and I was too distracted holding babies, watching bad tv, waiting for it to rain, and just plain wallowing around in big messy life questions.

But now the dog is sleeping on my lap, dinner has been made, dessert has been served, and I've run out of excuses.

So, this is what happened since last we spoke, in no particular order.

I ate chicken fried steak with my roommate and some friends and lots of lesbians and one ex-marine, and it was delicious and perfect.  There were Ritz crackers that we dipped in cream cheese covered in spicy pepper jelly that someone's grandma made, and it was awesome! We had pumpkin beer, and dark and stormy's, and mashed potatoes and biscuits.  I made this strawberry almond cream cake, and we pretty much inhaled the whole thing.


Yesterday night, Steven and I went running with Guthrie. It was crisp and perfect outside, we ran along a lovely pond, then Guthrie threw up his dinner, which was surprising. It was partially chewed, if you were wondering.  Apparently he was fine, because less then 5 minutes later he sprinted off to find out where Steven was hiding (he was taking a leak behind a tree) and then they ran around the field like maniacs until Guthrie tired himself out.

My Mom sent me a copy of the big deal scale, this nifty therapeutic tool created by a local Seattle mental health counselor, which was then adapted by my Mom and her colleague for use in their therapy groups with school aged kids.  It is very helpful for me, so helpful in fact, that I keep it on my fridge.  It may be helpful for you, too.


As you can see, we start at 1, which is "Not a big deal," and go up to 10, which is "A really BIG DEAL."
Here are some scenarios for you- you decide which number it is. There is no right or wrong answer.

A. I fell in a mud puddle and had to get new pants from the school nurse.
B. I did not get the icing flower I wanted on the cake at my friends birthday,  They gave me a piece with the letter 'H', but I wanted the purple flower.
C. I misspelled the word "constipation" in an email to my doctor.
D. My guinea pig died yesterday
E. I spilled a glass of red wine on my boyfriend's shirt and we did not get to see Bruce Springsteen at the party.

This is useful for me because I usually put everything at an 8 on the big deal scale. Like the other day, I accidentally dried my roommates clothes and forgot to take her bras out first. This can be a big deal if you are a girl- and I felt so bad I wanted to barf, just like Guthrie.  Then I reminded myself that what I put in the dryer was a bra, not a pet hamster, so it probably wasn't really an 8.

I get upset sometimes about things at work, like when they move the plates and don't tell me, or a customer is rude. I tell my boyfriend about it, and sometimes he says, "hey Lindsey, you know that big deal scale on the fridge that your Mom sent you? I think you think that this thing at work is a 7, but it's more like a 2."

See? It totally works!!!!! Feel free to print one out for your fridge.

OKAY. Other things that happened. I went to Gruene Hall with Steven and one of my dearest friends, we saw a local guy named Hayes Carll and this great opening band called Mike and the Moonpies.  Gruene Hall is a very famous Texas dance hall out in the country, there is no AC, there are old wood benches and tables and the floor is worn down with the dirt and sweat and country memories of many famous Texan artists. Also, John Travolta filmed a famous scene from Saturday Night Fever there.  Here is a picture of it.  If you come visit me we can go there and drink Shiner beers and sit on the old wood benches.



The other thing that happened that just about melted my face off, it was so GREAT, was that I got to see one of my all time favorite musicians, Neko Case. She lives on a farm, and she has horses and dogs, and a voice that would make Patsy Cline dance in Heaven.  She did a taping for the PBS show Austin City Limits, and it was FREE. In a beautiful theater, in downtown Austin.  I used to watch the show with my parents when I was a kid, and I never knew that the Austin skyline behind the performers was part of the stage, not the actual city. Back in the day, their theater was very small and on the campus of UT, and apparently they would announce the shows and then show up at coffee shops around town and pass out wristbands.  Now, they are in a beautiful new venue called the Moody Theater, and whenever they do a taping you can enter a drawing online for free tickets.  I went and stood outside for a couple hours, read a book and ate some sandwiches, and I got in!



I bought this poster, and rode home exultant, singing along to the wind the whole way home. Speaking of singing, I was in HEB the other day (that is the grocery store, and it stands for the guy's name, which was, I kid you not, Howard Edward Butts.) Anyways, I was buying some sundries and a nice lady with a thick Texan accent asked me if I wanted to do a free wine tasting. I said yes on an empty stomach, and felt pretty tipsy for approximately five minutes, during which time this old Dave Matthews Band song came on.  Many people I know would be annoyed at that scenario, but I was inexplicably and profoundly happy. There I was, dancing a little drunk on a dixie cup of sparkling Rose, listening to an old pal while I picked out trail mix in the store on my day off. It was amazing.

I hope you had some amazing and hilarious moments like that this past month too. I would promise to write next week, but we know that may not happen, so until the next time, enjoy these words and pictures.