Documentaries That Make a Difference

Lately I've become addicted to watching documentaries. 

I've seen documentaries on Native-American life, deaf entertainers, struggling single moms, the women's rights movement, female artists, recycling, the horrors of Walmart, the Joffrey Ballet, the 1980s, and several other diverse subjects. There's probably no documentary on any subject that I wouldn't be willing to watch.

It's good that I don't have Netflix because I'm sure I'd be watching its documentaries around the clock instead of doing more productive things (you know, like sleeping, eating, exercising, going to work, going outside, having a life, etc.). In lieu of that, DISH Network, which offers my beloved PBS and the recently-discovered Documentary Channel, keeps my DVR constantly filled with all the informative, entertaining documentaries I could ever want.

Three of the most interesting recent documentaries that I caught were Michael Mosley's trilogy, "Eat, Fast and Live Longer," "Guts," and "The Truth About Exercise," courtesy of PBS. 

The first followed Mosley, a British journalist with a medical background, as he adopted, based on medical and scientific research, an intermittent fasting diet (eating normally for five days and drastically reducing calorie intake on two non-consecutive days) in an attempt to lose weight and stave off diabetes (to which he is genetically predisposed). His new approach to eating was surprisingly (to him and perhaps also to viewers) successful, as evidenced by improved blood work levels and modest weight loss, though less than enjoyable.

"Guts," as you can expect from the title, was fascinating but gross, and difficult to watch at times for those, like me, who are squeamish. (Particularly awful was a gory operating-room scene depicting far too much of one man's gastric-bypass surgery...yuck.) In this film, Mosley again offered himself as a test subject (he is seemingly willing to try anything for the sake of research), this time by swallowing a tiny camera (really!) that allowed a museum full of gawking onlookers to watch on a video screen the internal effects of his body's digestion of a hearty meal. 

The most insightful, and possibly life-changing, for me of the three was "The Truth About Exercise." As a former (recovering) couch potato/junk food junkie turned exercise/healthy eating enthusiast, I've read a lot of books, articles, and websites devoted to exercise and nutrition during the past year and a half, and thought I knew a fair amount of information on those subjects. 

Michael Mosley conducting research in "The Truth About Exercise"

               

  http://video.pbs.org/video/2364990532

But I was surprised to learn, along with Mosley, that a person who has steady amounts of physical activity throughout the day but does no formal exercise can be healthier (overall) than someone who completes an hour-long workout at the gym after a sedentary eight hours at the office. That was tested in the film's segment that stood out the most to me as the researchers monitored the daily activity levels of Mosley, a business executive, and a busy pub waitress. The most active of the three turned out to be the non-exercising waitress (who was on her feet all day, constantly moving) who had a healthier activity level than the executive who went to the gym after a sedentary day at the office. 

An hour-long burst of daily activity does not make up for eight hours of relative inactivity, I was unpleasantly dismayed to learn. Like Mosley and the business executive in the film, I spend the bulk of my workdays sitting in front of a computer, but I work out for at least an hour, six days a week. Of course, I have previously read that sitting for longer than an hour without getting up and moving your body puts you at risk for health problems even if you do get or exceed the recommended daily amount of exercise, but I hoped that what I did was enough to make me fit and healthy.

So...like Mosley, who made small changes like walking more frequently and taking the stairs instead of  "the lift" (and trying high-intensity training for a few minutes a week, which is reportedly more effective than working out for hours every week)  for improved health results, I need to increase my activity level throughout the day instead of resting on my daily workout laurels...or, in this case, my ass.

Deliberating

"The dread of criticism is the death of genius." ~ William Gilmore Simms

I'm debating whether or not to take the next step forward with my blog, which would be alerting my Facebook "friends" (who consist of family members, coworkers, former high-school classmates, and a smattering of near strangers, for the record) to its existence. 

I've been blogging for three months...isn't it time?

The truth is I'm (still) afraid. I have the same fear that I had three months ago when it first went viral. I believed then that (real) people would be reading my (real) journal entries. Instead I was disappointed to realize that spam websites, apparently my primary "audience," are included in profile and blog post viewing stats. And do spammers really care how I feel about the Jodi Arias trial, love, life, or anything else? No, which equals safety but also defeats the purpose of publishing a blog. 

Right now I have the equivalent of an electronic journal. And though the act of writing has been extremely emotionally and spiritually beneficial, I need to push myself out of my journal-writing-only comfort zone. It's time. It's now or (perhaps) never. I survived the criticism and other feedback I endured while writing for a locally-published newspaper. Nearly 10 years later, I'm stronger, more mature, and better equipped to handle (inevitable) criticism now than I was then.

So, why am I afraid? 

There's increased pressure if real people read my blog. Writer's block would be publicly revealed. Even scarier, people would be able to see me, the real me, how I really think and feel in lieu of the sometimes contrasting image that I present to the world. 

I don't know if I'm ready for that. But will I ever be?

End-of-Tunnel Light

"Is there a chance? / A fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?" 

~ A Fine Frenzy, "Ashes and Wine"

A few months ago, I wrote about my struggle to endure what has felt like the longest, coldest upstate New York winter of my life (and I've survived a lot of them). The truth is a lot of things have been challenging during the past few months (heck, during the past 12 months). But there have been hints of spring weather on the horizon. Not consistently, of course. Western New York's only weather consistency is its lack of consistency, so the temperatures (typically for this time of year in this region) have been up and down like a yo-yo, but there's spring (and possibly summer) at the end of this long, dark, cold, snowy, miserable winter tunnel. I believe it (believing, in this case, what I can't always see)!

 

The other winter-long struggle that has consumed my thoughts and threatened my physical and emotional well-being has been a cancer scare that cropped up when a routine exam, to my utter shock, revealed abnormal precancerous cells. You know that tired cliche that afflicted people usually catch themselves saying...'I didn't think it could happen to me?' Well, I didn't think it could (or would) happen to young, healthy, health-conscious me. 

(And is there anything worse than receiving a call from your doctor's office informing you that something is wrong and, subsequently, sitting in front of your doctor as she opens your file and delivers your (life or death) sentence, making you feel as if she holds your life and its future (or lack thereof) in her hands?)

Three months of fear and uncertainty culminated a couple weeks ago in two biopsies and outpatient surgery to remove the abnormal tissue. Yesterday came the call from my doctor that I had anxiously awaited. Thankfully, the news was good: I'm cancer-free, and I'll have a follow-up exam with my doctor in six months to ensure that I remain so. 

 I didn't fully realize the depth of my fear, or how long I had been holding my breath, until I received that all-clear call. I feel tremendous relief and thankfulness, as well as a renewed commitment to maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I know I can't control everything. After all, even some of the fittest, healthiest world-class athletes (Lance Armstrong, Scott Hamilton, and Shannon Miller, for example) have been diagnosed with various forms of cancer. But I truly believe that the best chance of prevention (or survival, if diagnosed) comes in the form of a healthy diet and regular exercise. And I will live (gratefully!) accordingly.

Conscious Thoughts On Oversleeping

I overslept this morning. 

My alarm clock, instead of dutifully sounding at 5:35 a.m., as it has every morning, wimped out at 3:55 a.m. So, instead I awoke at 6:28 (which I learned upon checking my ever-reliable cellphone for the accurate time), giving me 15 minutes to get dressed and do my hair and makeup. Thankfully, I arrived at work on time, while feeling more than a bit self-conscious about sporting bedhead in public (which I've made a consistently firm habit of not doing), though I did get a compliment from a coworker on today's "cute" (and completely necessary) updo.

Anyway, the point of this post (if it has one) is that oversleeping, much like overcoming tragedy or surviving a near-death experience (my tongue is firmly in cheek, by the way), puts you in touch with your priorities. It's easy to start your day exactly the way you want to when your alarm goes off at the right time and you get up when you're supposed to get out of bed. It's a bit more difficult to do that when you have 15 minutes (rather than 45) to get dressed and make your face and hair presentable for work. 

So, what, if anything, did I learn from today's oversleeping experience? I learned that fulfilling my responsibility of getting to work when my employer expects me to get to work is far more meaningful to me than having a made-up face and perfectly flat-ironed hair. (To say I'm lacking both this morning is a gross understatement.) Also, more important than hair and makeup is eating a hearty breakfast that will sustain me until my lunch break and enjoying the quiet time that gets my mind prepared and focused for the workday ahead of me.

And I can't ignore the thought that having my daily routine forcibly shaken up now and again probably does me, a Type-A planner and worrier, a world of long-term good. 

I also realized that I missed not writing a page in my journal, which I've done every morning since reading in Julia Cameron's book The Artist's Way last summer that doing so is a great way to cure writer's block and jump start creative flow (she was correct on both counts). Although thinking and writing something halfway intelligent immediately upon waking sometimes feels like a burden, it's become an essential part of my daily routine. I've found that it's really the best way for me to start each day because it clears my mind and clarifies my thoughts.   

And once in a while, I dare say, those thoughts are surprisingly insightful and worthy of sharing, which I do, on this blog.

True Love

"Still don't know what love means..." ~ Ray LaMontagne, "Jolene"

"Maybe I've never really loved..." ~ Joni Mitchell, "Amelia"

 

I've spent some time lately thinking about love-true love-and realizing that the idea of unselfish love (my definition of true love) has been mostly foreign to me throughout my life. I've asked myself, 'Have I ever expressed unselfish love or been given it at any time?' And what is the real meaning of love-what is it really?-in its truest, purest form?

One source with a well-known description is 1 Corinthians 13, starting in verse four (NIV):

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

How many times have I read this passage or heard it read during the past 10 years without questioning whether I've given or received this kind of love? Have I experienced patient, kind love that is free of envy, boasting, pride, rudeness, selfishness, and anger and full of forgiveness, goodness, purity, protection, trust, hope, and perseverance? I'd say only rarely; mostly it has been selfish. It's been based on feelings, fleeting emotions that are circumstantial, rather than steady, unwavering choices of commitment and devotion that I could trust. 

I'm not sure if I've ever truly loved someone unselfishly, if I've ever wanted what was best for someone more than I've wanted my own personal happiness, desires, convenience, or agenda to be met, though I know I thought I did at the time. Would I be willing to sacrifice what I wanted for what's best for someone I loved if the two were in opposition? 

 I want to be. I want to become a person (if I'm not now) who will love truly and unselfishly.

Mean Girls

Why are so many women hostile, critical, and judgmental towards other women? 

I know it's nothing new, but I've been pondering this thought a lot recently. And now that I've recognized it and started thinking about it, I see it over and over again. 

I saw it in the PBS documentary "Makers: Women Who Make America" that I wrote about a few weeks ago, as women who assumed traditional female roles criticized and questioned women who rejected traditional roles (and vice versa). 

I see it on celebrity gossip websites (one of my vices, I'll admit) as non-famous women post written attacks of the style choices, relationship woes, and career mishaps of famous women. 

I see it often in news stories of teenage girls who are viciously bullied online and at school by other teenage girls, some pushed to the point of suicide.

And I see it frequently in blogs and on Facebook and Twitter, commonly in the insidious form of "Mom Shaming" (there's a term for it!) or weight/appearance assaults on fitness websites. (Let's face it, the Internet makes anonymous bullying way too easy.)

Why do we do this? We know how difficult it is to be a woman in the world today. We know how unfair it is to be judged and labeled by others based on our physical appearance (weight, hair, clothing), educational and career achievements, job title and salary, love life, and family life. We don't like it when it happens to us...so why do we do it to other women? Do we lack the self-awareness or sensitivity we need to imagine how others who look different or have made other choices might feel? 

Part of what inspired this post are two recent examples of "Mom Shaming" and fitness-forum fighting ("Fat/Fit Shaming," perhaps?) that I stumbled upon. 

Famous-name businesswoman Ivanka Trump (Donald's daughter, of course) recently stated in a Redbook cover article that working 16-hour days "makes me a better mom when I'm home" with her two-year-old daughter. (http://www.redbookmag.com/fun-contests/celebrity/ivanka-trump-interview#slide-1) 

As you can imagine, the Internet peanut gallery of moms and non-moms alike erupted in outrage. Amidst a few supportive acknowledgements that not every woman is cut out to be a stay-at-home mom, the general consensus on one forum was that she should not have had a child if she had no intention of spending time with her. (The discussion then amped up in intensity when Ivanka's second pregnancy was announced this week.)

It's more of the same on fitness sites and forums. Maria Kang, a thirty-something fitness-model /mom of three young boys, posted a controversial publicity photo of herself on Facebook looking tight, toned, and very fit in a bikini next to her sons with the tagline "What's your excuse?" 

Well, other women were quick to respond with their often-snarky excuses for why they don't look like her, such as they don't have nannies, they don't have time to work out, they're not selfish and vain, the photo was airbrushed, etc. In essence, they're better moms (and, therefore, better human beings) than she is. 

I ask again: Why? Why can't we support and encourage other women whether we agree with their choices or not instead of cutting them down? Why can't we acknowledge that what works for another woman might not work for us, but that doesn't mean that woman is wrong. 

We can agree to disagree without resorting to shaming or bullying. After all, we're all adults, here...right?

Happy to be Healthy

Last week was rough. Really, really rough. 

Easter, don't get me wrong, was fabulous. I enjoyed having quality time with my family and I gleefully ate past the point of discomfort, but everything went downhill after that.

Monday was overwhelmingly stressful. And when I didn't think the day could get worse, it did. (That's what I get for thinking that, right?!) It became horribly, painfully bad, as in all-night-stomach-flu bad. It was so bad (for me), in fact, that I called in sick to work for the first time in nearly three years, shocking all of my coworkers with my absence. (I'm notoriously stubborn about missing work, and have been known to go to work with colds, flu, coughs, sore throats, appendicitis, etc., but that's a blog post in itself.)

So there was that. And while it was horrendously awful, it did pass relatively quickly. I felt well enough to go back to work the following day, but I spent the rest of the week struggling to do all the things I usually do every day without thought or effort...like getting out of bed in the morning, getting dressed, eating without disastrous consequences, going to work, getting through the workday, and working out when I get home. 

My energy was zapped and my appetite was nonexistent. (I'm sure there's a connection.) In fact, eating became the biggest challenge. I think it was partly psychological (fear of vomiting), but my usual hearty appetite disappeared and food that I loved days earlier became repulsive. (Before this illness, I ate hummus on whole-wheat bread every day for lunch, for example. Now, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to stomach (literally!) the taste or smell of hummus again.)

Happily, my appetite is back...with a vengeance! I never thought I'd be so thankful for the desire to eat everything in sight. But days of woefully seeking something (anything!) I could eat without gagging have brought me to that place of gratitude.

I also have a renewed appreciation for having the energy to work out six days a week, which has often felt like an odious task, but now feels like a privilege. I'm thankful for a young, strong, healthy body that allows me to do what I need to do and most of what I want to do.

 I've realized that some days are wonderful not because wonderful things happen, but because you appreciate all of the mundane things that you usually take for granted.

Mindful Living

I'm working on living mindfully every day. 

I want to focus on each day and be able to say at the end of it that I made good decisions, set healthy boundaries (and maintained them) when necessary, took care of myself, nurtured my inner artist, felt my feelings, loved, accepted, and expressed kindness to myself and others, focused on the positive things in my life, expressed thankfulness at least once for my blessings, found at least one moment of peace, joy, laughter, and beauty, served God to the best of my ability, was open to truth and new insights, and lived as if it might be my last day.

That is truly the only way for me to live. How did I do it before? Life that isn't lived mindfully and meaningfully is too overwhelming. It's depressing. It's too easy to get stuck in unhealthy patterns if you don't take the time to look at yourself and your life honestly. Then you just mindlessly repeat the patterns, making the same mistakes and wondering why you feel overwhelmed, unhappy, and dissatisfied. 

I've learned so much from counseling, reading, starting to live mindfully, building and nurturing a relationship with God, and taking care of myself for the first time in a long time (or ever). The impetus is that I'm open to learning. I'm open to truth, acceptance, and change. I'm learning to become more comfortable with discomfort (which equals growth). I'm learning to feel my feelings and cope with them in healthy ways instead of ignoring them, denying them, numbing them, or suppressing them. 

 I'm learning that being healthy and whole is more important than being temporarily happy. I no longer seek or require emotional highs. I'd much rather have peace, stability, consistency, and contentment.

Grammar Police: Reporting For Duty

One of my biggest annoyances in life is incorrect spelling and grammar usage. It's especially prevalent in today's technology-dominated world. With texting, emailing, blogging, Facebook, and Twitter, we're typing more than ever, but most of us can't be bothered to use proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Often I feel like I'm the only person who actually cares about that...because I have an English degree or perhaps I'm just strange like that.

Either way, it's one of my passions. I'm easygoing about most things, but blatant spelling errors, total lack of punctuation, and careless grammar drive me bonkers. In fact, when I was younger I was one of those annoying Grammar Nazis who made a point of correcting my family members' often-atrocious grammatical errors. (And if I wasn't correcting, I was inwardly cringing.)

The truth is I still do cringe when I struggle to read Facebook, Twitter, online forum, and blog posts that are nearly incoherent. And I might never truly understand why some people don't care if they sound unintelligent (or unintelligible, at least), but I've realized that's just it - some people really don't care about spelling, grammar, and punctuation. And they don't understand why people like me really do care.

So I guess we'll just have to learn to tolerate each other. But, while we're doing that, here are a few helpful tips to ponder...