#ConniesYearOfSelfCare2019 Part 2

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

In Part 1 I talked about how I came to make self care my theme for 2019 and how I was allowing myself time to figure out exactly what I wanted that to mean. I also mentioned that I was writing about it mostly to keep it top of mind, because I've struggled with that in the past.

Well, I have good news on both fronts. I now have a list of habits, essentially, that I had already started and want to continue, that I want to improve upon, or that I want to even start in the first place...and that I believe will contribute to improving my health. More on that later.

Also, remarkably, self care has stayed top of mind so far. I honestly think the biggest reason is that I changed my Facebook cover photo to the graphic that accompanied Part 1. You don't see your own profile photo as often as you look at others', but I've found myself going back to my own profile to look for something often enough that I end up thinking "oh right, self care!" relatively frequently. I also put a reminder in my phone for the first of every month: "This year is about self care!" So...better living through technology, I guess!

* * * *

So...here's the habit list, broken down by minimum frequency. (What I'm not going to do is say—at least yet—how well I'm doing on each of these. I gotta have some secrets. ;)

Twice daily
Taking supplements

Daily

Walking or other exercise

Dental care

Skin care

Meditation

Reading

Twice Weekly
Stretching

Weekly

Acupuncture

Yoga

Creative hobby (such as coloring, music, calligraphy/lettering, photography)

Monthly

Reiki

Massage

Yearly

Vacation

There's probably more that could be added to this list. But these are my focus, at least for now.

* * * *

Next time I'll have to share about a workshop I attended in January. Its content seriously has the potential to change my life. Some workshops you don't end up getting much out of, but not this one! I mean, it's May, and I'm still thinking about it. Stay tuned!

#ConniesYearOfSelfCare2019: Part 1

I can't remember the moment when I began thinking about making this my theme for 2019. I just know I started thinking about it sometime before the start of the new year, and then, on January 1st, I made this graphic and changed my Facebook cover photo to it. I do remember realizing that at the very least, I needed to be taking a lot better care of myself than I presently do.

The fact that I turn 50 in less than 6 months could also have something to do with it.... ;)

Then there's always the chronic conditions that are the bane of my existence, namely depression, low energy, and acid reflux, to name the top three. They will get none better (and indeed will probably get worse) if I simply maintain the status quo.

Anyway, I'm sharing this journey as much to help keep it top of mind as anything else. Because I know from too much experience how difficult it can be to see something through that you start in January. So I figured writing about it could be a way to make it more of a 'thing.'

* * * *

The fact that it's a theme and not a resolution is very much on purpose. As I alluded to above, I've done the set-a-resolution-with-too-little-follow-through thing before. (Yeah, not fun when you realize later how poorly a resolution you'd set turned out.) Enough so that for a few years there, I stopped making resolutions and I think for some of those years, didn't even try to think about changing anything in particular. Even though a lot needs to be changed.

* * * *

The beautiful thing is that after only a little over two weeks into the new year, I've realized a few things that feel significant.

First, it dawned on me that I didn't have to figure out the "one right thing" to work on or habit to try to implement or whatever...on or before January 1. I could take some time to figure out what better self care will look like for me in 2019. So...I'm giving myself time to figure it out. I'm letting it be OK that I don't have the entire set of definitive answers—yet.

I think part of my follow-through problems in the past (well, besides being not great at it generally, lol) was: the more I tied any resolution to the start of a new year, the more I told myself "I'm going to do X every day," the greater the chances, it seemed, that it would fail. I think it just created too much pressure.

Second, since I started using a self-care journal (second link below) and writing down whatever I'd done in a given day that seemed self-care-ish, I was able to realize: I'm doing more that fits into the self-care category than I'd realized, so it's not like everything is garbage...and maybe I need to cut myself a break. How's that for a revelation.

* * * *

The other brilliant (I thought ;) idea I had was to during January schedule as many of my self-care appointments for the year as possible. That way they're already set up and I don't have to worry about scheduling any more of them until next year. So—I now have one massage and reiki appointment each scheduled for every month in 2019. I still need to do the same for an eye doctor appointment and possibly a medical wellness check. I'm also giving acupuncture a real try, but I don't know how long I'll be getting it regularly because I don't know yet how much it's helping me. (It can have a cumulative effect, and I'm still waiting to see if enough good effect will accumulate to make it worth it.)

Here are some of the other things I've done so far to further my self care in 2019:

• Read The Self-Care Project by Jayne Hardy (founder and CEO of The Blurt Foundation, which provides support and resources to people with depression)
• Bought and began using this self-care journal (And by the way, I'm letting it be OK if I don't write in it every single day.)
• Divided up my supplements so I can begin taking them twice instead of once a day, for better results (sometimes, it's the little things...)
• Set a reading goal (of 24 books) for the year, finished the one I was reading when the new year started, read a second, started on a third (I joined a book club late last year, so I'm hopeful that will motivate me to choose reading over, say, Netflix more often than I did last year)

* * * *

So...that's where I'm at. Here's to the journey as it unfolds.

10 Things in 10 Years

September 4 was the 10th anniversary of Ron's death. Earlier this year, for International Widows Day (held annually on June 23), Soaring Spirits International asked members of its community to submit a story of something they'd accomplished post-loss that they were proud of or had never thought they'd do. And on that day, Soaring Spirits periodically shared these stories on its Facebook page as a way to celebrate widows' amazing spirits and to inspire others.

My first thought on hearing about this (and the only one for quite a while) was, "I haven't done ANYthing yet that I didn't think I'd do!" Only after pondering for a while did I realize a couple of things that did, in fact, fit that description. And in the meantime, I've thought of several other things that do as well. Why didn't I think of any of these things right off the bat? I think it's because my list of "want to's" in life is so long, and I haven't had the energy to do so many of them, that that's the first thing I think when I encounter this question. I guess in the future I'll just have to try to remember the following list. And now, without further ado, here are 10 things I've done in 10 years that, if you'd told me right after Ron's death that I'd do them, I'd never have believed you:

1. Survive.
   Seriously, when the person you love most in the world dies, you think you're going to die, too. At least you want to. And you have to decide, moment by moment until you can do it hour by hour until you can do it day by day, that you're not going to join your beloved on the other side. Even though the only thing you wanted and still want is to be with that person. Thanks for my not doing that go in largest part to the grief support resources I discovered early on: a grief support website (no longer in existence) with a 24/7 chat room—a life saver!—and no less than 3 separate in-person support groups. For online support now, I go to Facebook groups and Widowed Village (which also has a 24/7 chat room).
2. Date again.
   After Ron died, my thinking was: I've already had the love of my life; why would I want to do that or try for that again? What I didn't know yet was: that was just the grief talking. About 9 months after Ron's death, I met Tim....and sensed a connection with him from our very first conversation. Within a couple weeks, we were dating. I think it took that experience to show me, as nothing else probably could have, that I did in fact want to and could love again. He and I didn't last, and I haven't yet found a truly long-term relationship, but at least I know it's a possibility.

3. At Camp Widow West 2013 (source). Shirt from the American Widow Project.

   Call myself a widow.
   When he died, Ron was my "boyfriend." We'd just started dating officially a couple months before. But I realized pretty quickly that "boyfriend" didn't begin to cover what he meant to me. "Dating" wasn't nearly sufficient. I began to call him my fiancé because we had talked so much about getting married; we had agreed in our hearts that we were headed for it. I truly believed that I would marry him someday. Even more than all that, though, the thing that most gave me permission to call myself "widow" was the essay The Widow's Gates by Kim Go. It opened my eyes to the historically-wider meaning of the word "widow" and more importantly, validated my unique journey. I can never thank Kim, herself a widow who was wedded, enough for writing that piece.

4. All of us at my first Camp Widow. Can you see me? (source)

   Find and join an inclusive community through something called Camp Widow. I can't remember exactly how I first heard about Camp Widow or its parent organization, Soaring Spirits (though I've racked my brain trying to!). But I'm so very glad I did. The thing that makes Soaring Spirits so meaningful to me is that anyone whose significant other died is welcome to participate in its programs—regardless of marital status, gender, age, or orientation. Of course, if it weren't so inclusive, I wouldn't be a part of it. I've been told time and again that I'm "not really a widow" because Ron and I weren't married. But that distinction doesn't matter at Soaring Spirits. The other thing that makes it so meaningful to me are the many friendships I've made through it, including some that I now hold dearest.
   
   
5. Support other widows. If I didn't imagine calling myself a widow, I certainly couldn't have imagined supporting other widows. But in July 2010, I and one other UW started the Unwedded Widows Facebook page (for UWs and supporters), and a few years later, I added the Unwedded Widows group (for UWs only).
   
   In 2013, Soaring Spirits started their Regional Group program, which allows widowed people in the areas where there are groups to regularly hang out with others who "get it." And I volunteered to lead Soaring Spirits Central Ohio, which has been in existence since August of that year.
   
   I've gotten indications that these support avenues have been helpful for people, and I am so, so grateful that's the case.
   

   With some of the members of SSCO.

   
   
6. Start 2 blogs.
   Of course, in 2004, I probably would've said, "What's a blog?" But about 5 years after Ron died, I started my other blog, Loving From the Inside Out—part of my attempt to bring good into the world out of his passing. There's still a lot more I want to do around that concept...and I'll certainly share about it when I do.

7. With Bare Escentuals Executive Chairman Leslie Blodgett during her visit to our store in July, 2010 (source / credit: Photolosophys).

   Become a makeup artist.
   In June 2007, I was laid off from my full-time job as a technical communicator, the job I had when Ron died. And while being laid off was certainly no fun, if it hadn't been for that, I'd never have needed a second job to supplement the temping I was doing, and I'd never have applied at Bare Escentuals. I already used and loved the foundation and a few other products, and I thought it'd be cool to work there. And it was. But it was more than that. For the first time, I really learned how to apply makeup, something I'd never been taught growing up in a home where it was largely forbidden. And knowing how to skillfully apply makeup helped me feel more beautiful and helped me help others to do the same. And not incidentally, that job did even more for me: it provided a bright spot in my life. It helped me experience some much-needed cheerfulness and fun. It gave me something to look forward to, which I hadn't had in a long time. I will forever be grateful for my time at BE.
8. Take long, solo car trips.
   In 2012, I wanted to go to Camp Widow East, but flying to Myrtle Beach (where East was held for the first 2 years) was so expensive, I knew I could rent a car and drive there for cheaper than the flight. And so I did, even though I couldn't find anyone to ride with me. And then in September 2013, I drove to New Jersey and back during a weekend so I could spend more time with my widowed peeps. As I've said before, it's certainly not the solo part that I love; I just don't let that part stop me. And I gained in confidence through doing it! Always a good thing.
9. Become a LGBT ally.
   Having grown up Independent Fundamental Baptist, there was only "one" answer regarding all things LGBT, which of course was that all of it is wrong, period. I mean, it's clearly stated

   Card given to those who sign up to be allies to the Pride Partnership (employee group) at my company. This now hangs directly below my nameplate outside my cubicle.

   in the Bible, right? Well, thanks largely to my frequent readership of Rachel Held Evans' blog and other voices, I have come to have a very different opinion about that. Especially since many scholars believe that the passages that conservatives interpret as being anti-homosexuality are actually referring to pedophilia and similar forms of abuse. Also, this video was especially enlightening. But possibly the biggest thing that shifted my thinking? The simple question: When did I decide to be straight? Ohhh, right. I didn't. Plus: I don't care anymore how other people live. 'Long as they're not causing harm to self or others,...I couldn't care less. Anyway, I'm so grateful I've changed in this way. There are people in my life today who I've come to care a great deal about who wouldn't be, if I hadn't changed my mind and heart.
10. Take up yoga.
    Well, yoga was another thing forbidden by the IFB. The conservative Christian "party line," as I've heard it, is that yoga comes out of Hinduism and is therefore evil and that you're a) worshiping Hindu gods when you assume certain poses and b) inviting demons into your body and life when you sound an "om." I've even heard that "om" is the name of a specific demon. (How anybody would even "know" that, I have no idea.) Well, I now find all of that to be patently ridiculous. Worshiping is an act of the will; it's not like you can accidentally worship something. And as for "om"? A very experienced yoga teacher, when I asked what the deal with "om" was, said that the word itself doesn't mean anything; sounding it is just a way to experience vibration in the belly, chest, and head. I started practicing in June of this year, and I've come to love going to class. I've begun to see inklings of a difference it is making in my life, and that is very cool.

 And...a bonus one (since this one didn't occur until just after the 10-year mark passed): Have my own website. I don't remember when I first had the idea of having my own site, but it may've been because my old Internet service provider included some free website space with every account. I'd learned a little HTML in my work as a technical communicator, so I created one on that platform, but it was pretty rudimentary. It did, however, tell the story of Ron and me. Later, when I changed ISPs, that site went away. Then sometime within the last couple years, I discovered Wix, which allows people to create their own professional looking site without having to do any coding. And after a lot of thought and hard work, I finally have a site that I'm proud of and that once again tells my and Ron's story. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...conniewinch.com:

So there you have it. Come to think of it,...I've done a lot! 

"I Want to Live"

Saturday night at Camp Widow means one thing: time for the banquet. We doll ourselves up, we put on the fancy, and we celebrate our strength, celebrate that we've made it this far.

At the banquet with my friends and widow sisters Beth and Judy.

And there's a dance floor and a DJ...who by the way is instructed to play no slow songs. For one Camp, they happened to hire a live band, and for whatever reason there was no instruction on what to play or at least not to play. Which was unfortunate, because they played At Last, and there were people running out of the room crying. That had been some people's wedding song. Hmmm, can you say "sensitivity fail"? But--I digress.

At one point during this Camp's banquet, I was dancing near my friend Barbara and a woman named Betty, who I hadn't really had a chance to interact with yet. All of a sudden, she says to Barbara, "I feel old," and when Barbara asked how old she is, she gave an answer in the late 60s.

A few minutes later, Betty and I were still dancing near each other, and she said something that I couldn't quite make out, so I asked her to repeat. She said, "I want to live."

I want to live.

The tears welled up instantly...as they still do every time I think of it. All I could do was say, "I don't even know you, but now I have to hug you," and she let me. Further evidence, by the way, of how the bond between widowed people can form--instantly, strong, and very deep.

I mean, how easy would it be for her to give up? To give up on life, to give up on ever enjoying it again. (It's a temptation I am all too familiar with.) But no, something in her has risen up and refused to take the easy-but-ultimately-self-destructive path. Just...wow.

Talk about inspiring!

R.I.P. Joseph "Doc Joe" Franz, June 17, 1952–January 22, 2013

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This week I learned the devastating news that my doctor, Joseph "Doc Joe" Franz, had passed away.

Doc Joe was so much more than my doctor. Even to call him my friend isn't quite right. He was almost like a father figure in my life. He didn't just care for me medically, he cared about me personally. A line from his obituary reads, "Doc Joe was a compassionate and caring man who treated his patients as if they were family." I am here to tell you: this is true.

The first time I met Doc Joe was many years ago, when he treated me at an urgent care place. (I had a different regular doctor at the time.) I left with one of his business cards. Some time later, when I couldn't get in to see my regular doctor, I looked up Dr. Franz. I discovered he had his own practice, so I went to see him for whatever my concern was at the time. In that visit, I ended up telling him about some of the difficult things I was going through. He sat with and listened to me for half an hour, and not once did he look at the time, tell me he had other patients he had to get to, or hurry me along in any way. I left his office thinking, "I'm going to him from now on!" And I did. I had my other doctor transfer my records to his office, and he was my doctor from that day on.

We talked often about my struggles. And many times when we did, he'd use the analogy that I was lost in a forest...just trying to find my way out, to the sunshine. It was apt.

I remember how sad he was for me when Ron passed. He said something to the effect of...he'd seen me already go through so much, and things had just started looking up. Yeah, no kidding.

And I can't forget the day I told him that I suspected I was hypothyroid. As I've said before, he surprised me with how open he was to listening to my symptoms and the research I had done. Being on thyroid replacement therapy has done a lot of good for me, and I owe that in large part to him.

I've already thought many times about how I can honor his memory. What can I do specifically to pay tribute to his spirit? But it pretty quickly came to me: I can determine even more to finally, fully find my way to the sunshine.

My life is forever enriched for having known Doc Joe. There will never be another like him.

* * *

Doc Joe: You were a bright spot in my life. You cared for me and you cared about me. I can never thank you enough for that. I promise you: I will find my way to the sunshine. The rays have started to peak through (thanks in part to you), but there's still work to be done. I'll remember you when yet again I'm tempted to give it up. Someday, I'll be dancing in the clearing, bathed in the sunlight...and I'll remember you then too.

Tell Ron how much I miss him.

Books That Made a Difference: Therapy Revolution

Note: This is the first post in my occasional series Books That Made a Difference.

I've been through, already, collectively, years of therapy. The problem is: I almost never felt like I was getting anywhere. (I still feel I haven't really come all that far, so I guess that's fitting.) I say "almost" because, to be fair, there are a few things that one of my therapists in particular did help me see, things she helped me reframe; and I really value the new perspectives that helped me to have.

But--for the most part: I would go and talk for the better part of an hour, leave (often feeling drained), go back a week or two later, do the same thing all over again...and soon wonder if--you guessed it--I was getting anywhere. And, sometimes, wonder if I was paying someone to essentially just listen to me. And I'd think, "Well, I have friends for that."

So relatively recently, when I decided that therapy was something I still needed*, I decided to look into how to find a good therapist. (In the past I'd just taken recommendations from friends or whatever and never did much investigating. That's on me, but--I also didn't know how.)



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I'm happy to report I found that and much more when I discovered the book Therapy Revolution by Richard and C.R. Zwolinski. (Richard seems to be the primary author, so when I use "Zwolinski" or a male pronoun, I'm talking about him.) As  you can see, the subtitle is Find Help, Get Better, and Move On Without Wasting Time or Money. With one look at that, I was like: that's exactly what I need!

Here are some of the ideas from the book that I find the most helpful (all brand new to me).

First: If in therapy you're going to explore deep, painful stuff, the therapist needs to first ensure you have or help you build your emotional scaffolding.

When patients talk about painful events, they are at their most vulnerable. They don't yet know how to build their healed "new" selves because they weren't ready for the confrontation with their unhappy "old"selves. In fact, it is not uncommon to find that patients don't have the emotional scaffolding in place to deal with their pasts. Emotional scaffolding is our term for the coping strategies and skills that are taught to a patient by a therapist in order to help the patient manage and deal with the deep inner exploration that may be a part of psychotherapy. (page 6)

Who knew?!? When I read this it made complete sense to me, but, as I noted above, it was a brand new thought. How many times in therapy had I expounded on deep, painful things--and we had done no scaffolding building, or even checking, first? It was many. I don't think I've necessarily been severely traumatized by the retelling, but as I alluded to above, it was extremely draining. I would often leave a session feeling just depleted and sad. (Interestingly, he says you should never leave a therapy session feeling worse than when you got there--see page 129.) I had no idea that perhaps I was being done a disservice by our jumping into the deep end without first seeing how well I could handle it.

Spending a lot of time delving into the past may not be necessary. This is touched on in many places throughout the book. And most of the places where he said something like this, I was thinking, "Hmm, I don't know," because one of my therapists said to me once, "Trauma stays with us until we deal with it," and that made a lot of sense to me. Still does. I think his repeated emphasis on not dwelling on the past may be a response to styles of therapy he's seen where all they did was talk about the past...and get stuck there, just dredging up pain and not really resolving the pain and moving on. In fact, on pages 169 and 170, he says:

[Y]ou may need to check into your past at least briefly. You may even need to spend some time talking about it....And if your past has so traumatized you that you can't remember or talk about it, it might take some time, perhaps several months or longer, to approach the subject and work through it. But neglecting the present and the future in order to immerse yourself in the past can cause you to lose perspective and avoid responsibility for who you are now and who you want to be tomorrow....Because there are linkages between the present and the past, of course you and your therapist will want to understand your past. While understanding the past is important, it is more important to avoid getting stuck in it. (emphasis his)

If you're struggling with motivation to do the work of therapy, a competent therapist can and should help motivate you. (See pages 11 and 38-42.) I am a champion avoider of the painful. So much so that often when one of my therapists assigned me journalling, for example, to do, I wouldn't do it until I was in the waiting room waiting for the next appointment. Sad but true. I even asked this therapist once to get on my case more if I hadn't done my homework, because (good or bad) I knew that would motivate me. I was told I would get out of therapy what I put into it, so it was up to me. Now, it's not like I don't see where this comes from. I get that if I want my life to change, I'm gonna have to put the work in. It's just that that's one of the very areas I was struggling in, and I was told, basically, "you should just do it." Perhaps this even goes back to scaffolding: I probably didn't have the scaffolding I needed to journal about painful stuff...no wonder I didn't want to do it.

A competent therapist should respect--and be able to work with--your belief system or refer you to someone who can. (See pages 3 and 61.) I used to believe that I should only ever go to a therapist who was a Christian. Now, I think that there's probably a lot that any competent therapist can offer me, regardless of whether they're a Christian. Contrary to what some might think, I still have a filter. And--if a therapist works within the boundaries of my belief system or refers me to someone who can, no worries; if they disrespect or try to get me to go against my core beliefs, I'm outta there.

This one is huge: You can and should phone interview a therapist and check out their qualifications before beginning any sessions with them. (See chapter 3.) I remember that I did ask one of my therapists a few questions before meeting...but now I know how much I didn't know then about what kinds of questions to ask and what to look for in the answers. I specifically remember asking for references (that may've been the only substantive question I asked, come to think of it). I was told patient's names are kept confidential (which sounded like the most obvious thing once I heard it), but I was not then told I could ask for colleague references. I never even knew such a thing existed in the therapy world.

Zwolinski defines the major types of therapists (this one's back in chapter 1 on pages 12-17), talks about how to ask about their qualifications and how a therapist should respond, and tells how to verify those qualifications. He also suggests other things you should ask about, including their experience (especially in treating people with problems like the ones you're seeking help with), their rate of successful outcomes (the percentage of cases in which patients are generally doing well post-therapy), their clinical philosophy and theoretical orientation (the general approach they take to therapy), their ethics and values (and their ability to work with yours), and their fee structure. He even provides a phone interview checklist, one of several checklists in the book. So helpful.

Once you've decided to start seeing a particular therapist, in the first session, you should be continuing to evaluate the therapist, and the therapist should begin an evaluation, including a biopsychosocial history, of you. (See chapter 4.) Yeah, for me, none of this ever happened. As to the first part: again, I didn't know the questions to ask and perhaps even that I could ask more questions. As to the second part: how did my therapists know what all was going on with me or rule out other causes for my issues? They didn't.

For me this is perhaps the biggest one of all: There should be a written treatment plan and the therapist should not just share it with you but create it with you. (See chapter 5.) In a treatment plan, patient and therapist list the patient's issues, the therapeutic goals, and the strategies that will be used to meet those goals. It should be referred to throughout therapy to track progress. At the end of chapter 5, Zwolinski provides a checklist for all of the components that your therapy plan should include.

Remember I said I was never sure if I was getting anywhere? Well no wonder! If there was ever a treatment plan in my time with any of my therapists, I was unaware of it. I'm not sure we ever even really talked about goals. Certainly sounds obvious now. It's like the axiom: If you don't know where you're going, how will you know when you get there?

I could certainly go on; there's much more in this book that can benefit the therapy seeker. In fact, there's a lot of important stuff I'm not going into here; the above are just the ones that "hit me" the most.

I suppose the true test will come once I put the things I've learned from this book into practice. But now...I have confidence that I can achieve a better result. I feel armed with tools for navigating the therapy journey that I never had before. That is huge.

If you are considering therapy, I highly recommend you read this book.

Note: I purchased this book for my own use. This review was unsolicited and uncompensated. It represents my completely honest opinion.


*For anyone thinking "You don't need therapy; you shouldn't look anywhere besides the Bible," or other anti-psychology thoughts and may be harboring ideas of changing my mind: don't even bother...yeah, my mind's pretty made up. Thanks though.

How I Successfully Formed a New Habit

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You guessed it...there's an app. for that! One day several weeks ago as I was thinking about how to really, finally make a habit out of, well, certain things I want to make a habit of. ;) And I was reminded of the idea that says that if you track something, your performance is likely to be better at it. Simply the act of tracking it can lead to better results. Then I figured that there had to be an app. that would help me do that.

So I searched the app. store for "habit tracking." Well, I originally searched on just "tracking" and got mostly results that were trackers for specific things that don't relate to my life. But "habit tracking" yielded the app. that I use now; it's called Habit Streak. Now, I'm certainly not here to "sell" you on this particular app. Just sharing my experience. If you're going to use an app. or any other external tool, of course, find one(s) that really work for you.

How this app. works is: you give a name and description to the new habit and choose a time of day that you want the app. to ask whether you did that new thing. The idea is that you would report on the previous day's progress...and the more consecutive days for which you can indicate "yes, I did this thing," the longer of a streak you build up--hence "Habit Streak."

The only things I don't like about this particular app. are: it only works for things you want to do daily, and it only reminds you, about all of the habits you're tracking, at the same time every day. Some things I want to be reminded of at particular times, like if I want to start taking a multivitamin daily with breakfast, I might want to be reminded of that at a different time than some other things. But--the company that developed this app. has another one that, from what I understand, allows for durations other than daily, so I may be giving that a try soon.

The interesting thing I discovered, though, is: once it got to the point where I was expecting the reminder (I'd set it for right before bedtime, so I guess that made starting to expect it easier), I would realize that if I hadn't done my new habits, I'd have to say "no." And of course I wouldn't be "disappointing the app."--I'd be disappointing myself.

Whoa. 

I guess that's the power of tracking! Who knew?!?

I've heard that if you do something 27 times, it's a habit. So by that measure I have formed two new habits and am in the process of forming a couple more. Someday I may blog about what some of those new habits are; for now I'm just thrilled that I can honestly say: This is now a habit. With the new things I'm doing, my health and my happiness are bound to benefit.

Just Getting to Camp Widow West Was a Challenge!—or: How to Succeed While Failing

Last weekend was Camp Widow West 2012. I'll blog more about it later, but first I gotta tell you about the saga that is: the story of my just getting to San Diego.

My flight schedule was Columbus to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to San Diego. (There is no direct Columbus to San Diego, and in the ~18 years I've lived here, there never has been. I fail to understand this.) If everything had gone as planned, I wouldn't have landed 'til almost midnight San Diego time, and that would've kind of sucked, but hey, I stay up late every night, so no big deal, right? Oh, if only.

Before I got to the airport, I checked the flight status, and it was listed as on time. (Delta has an app. for that; thank you, Delta. By the way it has a lot of other great features, like the boarding pass right on your phone--love that. Highly recommended if you ever fly Delta.) But after I got to the gate, it slowly dawned on me that they were announcing a delay. (Despite the fact that the announcement was about my flight, it didn't immediately catch my attention for whatever reason.) The plane that would've taken us to Minneapolis was delayed getting to Columbus because of weather, and we were now scheduled to take off almost 2 hours later than we would have otherwise. And if I'd gotten on that delayed flight, I would've had less than 20 minutes to make my connection in Minneapolis. The Columbus gate agent said we were in danger of missing our connection if it took off before 10:30. Mine was scheduled to take off at 10:00.

The Columbus gate agent said something like, "If you don't want to wait in this line [which was already quite long, and of course I wasn't in it], you can come get one of these Need Help cards, and an agent will come speak with you." I'd never heard of a "Need Help card" before; it must be something new Delta's trying. And wouldn't you think everyone would want one of those cards, 'cause no one likes to wait, really? 'Course, if everyone got one, they'd still have to wait! Anyway, I picked one up, and the front said just (you guessed it) "Need Help?" and on the back were all the ways...you could get help yourself! (Such is the state of customer service these days.)

So I called the phone number that was listed, and the first option was "If you are in an airport, press 1." Bingo. Except--the woman I spoke with told me that there were no later flights from Minneapolis or from any other hub (on that or on any other airline) or if there were, they were all sold out. She suggested my getting on a plane the next day, flying Columbus to Atlanta and then to San Diego. Uh...no. My first CWW session started at 11AM on Friday San Diego time. There was no way, if I could help it, that I was going to miss any part of CWW, much less the whole first day. At one point I said to her (animated voice), "I can't miss what I'm going to! I just can't miss it!" I'm thinking, "You just don't understand." I didn't actually play the widow card, though it probably wouldn't have done me any good anyway. So--I decided to risk it in Minneapolis. I mean, it is my hometown so I know the airport really well (although--it is constantly changing, it seems like). And I'm not unwilling to run through an airport like a fool if I have to. And of course, worst case scenario, if I miss the connection and get stranded, I can always call my sister and say, "Hey, can I stay at your house tonight?" lol.

Right after I hung up, a man sitting nearby said to me, "Hey, there's a flight to Los Angeles tonight; it leaves from that gate right over there....I heard you yelling at that woman, so I thought I'd mention it." Well, I wasn't really yelling (honest!), but anyway. I was like, "Reeeally!" He goes, "Yeah." So I called the number back and got rebooked on that flight. I walked to the other gate, where the agent printed my new boarding pass and rechecked my bag. I then walked back over to the guy and thanked him. I again did not play the widow card; ergo, he doesn't even know just how much his sharing that little piece of information means to me.

While waiting for my new flight, I used my laptop to reserve a rental car in LA. Because I didn't plan on keeping it past that night, I made it a one-way. This cost me an (unexpected, of course) $125.

We landed in LA at about 11:40 LA time, and it was midnight before I got to the Avis counter. The Avis guy practically tried to trick me into buying insurance and in the process was slightly rude to me, but I caught the difference when I looked at the total and turned that down.

I have turn-by-turn navigation on my phone (thank you, Google and Android). It got me to Myrtle Beach and back, so I had every confidence it would work here. I even turned down a GPS unit at the Avis counter.

So I went to my car, figured out where everything was and adjusted the mirrors and stuff, typed the San Diego airport (where I'd return the car) into my Navigation app, and start following its directions. Soon I was on the 405 South.

Well, naturally, I did not know that the 405 South closed somewhere in/south of LA. It was one of those deals where they reduced it one lane at a time, before siphoning us all off onto some road called Seal Beach Blvd. I've never been to LA in my life, so I have no idea where I am; I'm just following what the GPS is continuing to tell me to do and what all the other cars are doing. Yes, it's a freakin' backup--at ~1 in the morning.

So there I was, on Seal Beach Blvd. in Los Angeles at ~1AM, inching along, at a mind-numbingly slow pace, with all the other cars. I didn't realize 'til later that all we were doing was getting to the next cross street, which would take us back to the 405, south of the closure. I also didn't realize until it was too late that if I'd gotten one lane over (instead of staying in the slower, left-most lane), I'd have gotten to that cross street a lot sooner. Of course, I had no way of knowing any of this.

At some point while I'm on Seal Beach Blvd., my phone beeps low battery at me. Of course. I said this of my previous phone and I say it of my current one (thanks a lot, LG and Samsung): "There's nothing for the life of my phone's battery quite like, oh, not using it." And of course, when you're using the GPS, it's constant communication with the towers, so...there ya go. I didn't have a car charger with me 'cause I hadn't expected to need one. The only one I owned at the time didn't work anyway! So, even though I was driving (it was really slow, remember?), I found my laptop case, pulled the laptop out of it, found the phone cord, and connected the two--'cause the laptop'll charge the battery. So, for now...whew. Finally, I did get back onto the 405.

At some point after I did so--in Mission Viejo, as it turned out--my laptop battery died. (Side note: Mission Viejo always reminds me of Greg Louganis, as he trained there for the 1984 Olympics, during which I, unaware of his orientation, pined for him. Good times.) So now, of course, I had NO directions. I wouldn't make it like that, so I stopped at a gas station. I went in and grabbed a bottled water to buy and said to the attendant, "I bet you don't have any actual maps anymore?" He said, "No, we do." So we were about to figure out which one would be the best to get me to the San Diego airport, when I said, "Unless you're willing to let me plug in my laptop long enough to call it up, and I'll write it down." He said sure, so I went and got the laptop, he plugged it in behind the counter (he was really nice!)...and the Verizon network decided not to connect me in that moment. He looked it up on his phone, and I wrote it down from there. I bought something extra from him 'cause he was so nice. At one point during this stop, I thought for a second I might've locked the rental car keys inside it. Thank God, that did not happen.

So after a bunch more driving, including getting onto the 5 South, I'm in San Diego. It is past 3 in the morning by this time. The street in San Diego that takes one from the 5 to the Airport is called Sassafrass. Like many freeways, the 5 has signs letting you know of the next 3, usually, exits coming up. Well, wouldn't you know, Sassafrass is not on any such sign. It was on a 'here's Sassafrass' type sign; it just wasn't on a 'Sassafrass is coming up' type sign. The reason I was looking for it on that kind of sign was so that I'd know to get off ahead of time so I could get gas and not have to pay the $9/gallon or whatever that Avis would've charged me to fill it back up. (As it turned out I might've been ahead, if only in reduced stress, if I'd paid it but...of course...I had no way of knowing what was still to come.)

Suddenly, there's Sassafrass. So I get off the freeway, and now...I have NO idea where the nearest gas station is. Can't call anyone or look it up on my phone or laptop 'cause...right, they're both dead. Again, it's 3-something in the morning. Almost every place is closed. The streets are practically deserted. Plus, I'm a woman alone in a (mostly) unfamiliar town. Yeesh. But I figure, I'll just keep driving. I had no concrete plan at this point. Obviously.

Before too long I saw a guy on the sidewalk. I have no idea why he was doing this at that hour, but he had a canister on his back and was spraying down the sidewalk. Though at that moment I didn't even wonder, "Why is he doing that right now?" I just saw a person! I pulled over and rolled down my window. Seeing this, he stepped over. When I asked if he knew where the nearest gas station was, he had to think about it (not a good sign) and then said, "I think if you go up to Laurel and take a right, it's ahead on the right-hand side, but I'm not really sure of that." Oh great. But it was worth a shot, so I said I'd try it.

Well, do I even have to tell you I was tired? I had already essentially stayed up all night. Three o'clock San Diego time is 6:00 Columbus time, sooo...yeah. As such I drove a few blocks without even looking at the street signs. At some point I realized, "I've probably missed Laurel." I decided to just keep driving.

Before too long, I got to an intersection where, off to my left, I could see the sign for the hotel. I thought if I could just check in now, extend my car rental reservation by a few hours (with someone giving me a ride later), then I could be done with this nightmare.

I pulled into the hotel, parked, and went in. I told the front desk agent that I was going to check in but first needed a phone so I could extend my rental reservation. She wanted to look me up first, which was fine, but she looked up both my and my roommate's names and didn't find us. I said, "This is the [Marriott] Marquis and Marina, right?" She said, "No, this is the Hyatt." Ughhh. So embarassing.

Fortunately, the Marriott is just next door. So I got back in the car, drove to the Marriott, and repeated the same thing to that front desk agent. She was very nice. A credit to Marriott, actually. She looked up Avis' number, dialed it, and handed me the phone. That whole interaction was (of course!) with an automated system, but "extend your reservation" was one of the first options. I gave the system all the information it asked me, guessing on what time I'd be able to bring it back. When we got done with all of that, automated lady told me it'd be $137 on top of what I'd already paid. NOT happening. I immediately handed the phone back to the gal and said "Hang this up." She then looked up how to get to the nearest gas station and then the airport and printed out directions and a map for both. I took them and headed to the car...and once I was there, realized, "How am I gonna get back here?"

When I went back and asked that...my memory is a little fuzzy on this point, but I think she may've asked me if someone could come pick me up. Um, yeah, at 4 in the morning, right. I asked if someone could just drive over there with me and give me a ride back. "We don't offer that service." Ughhh. So she called a cab company for me.

After I set that up, I drove to the gas station and filled up--another (unexpected, of course) $25, thank you. When I drove out of the gas station, I didn't realize I was turning the wrong way onto the oncoming side of the street. WOOPS! I realized it immediately, though, and snaked back into the gas station and went out the other way. The airport and Avis counter were just down the street.

While I was waiting to check in my car, the cab was pulling up. I asked the Avis guy (while he was helping someone else) if he needed anything from me, and he said no, so I went out and got into the cab. He delivered me to the Marriott...where I checked in and FINALLY got to my room...at past 4 in the morning.

And that, my friends, is how much Camp Widow means to me.