Tag: happiness

A Twisted Ankle, a Bum Knee, and Dancing All Night

Why do I exercise? How do I stay motivated to do it? Those have been some of your favorite questions for me lately.

Why do I exercise? That’s an easy one, because to begin with I went to the gym to stay out of surgery. I twisted my ankle over five years ago now, and I didn’t think anything of the sprain. I mean we all sprain our ankles now and then, right? Except I twisted it about three times in two weeks. Apparently, I have permanently damaged my Achilles’ tendon. Orthopedist told me that she could do surgery with an almost guaranteed loss of movement, or I could hit the gym and put more muscle around the injury – think of it as an internal splint. I chose gym. I hit it with a vengeance and when I went back months later, she said, “You really did it. You went to the gym.”

“You told me to,” I said.

“I tell a lot of people that, but they never go.”

Hmm . . . surgery in my 40s with a almost certain loss of movement forever in my ankle, so I’d never run again. I’d never . . . do a lot of things again, or I could exercise more. It seemed an easy choice to me, and one I’m very glad I made.

When I walked into the gym three, or is it four years ago, I was medically not allowed to run. Now I can hit 6 mph on the treadmill for sustained periods, not for long sustained periods, but I can do it. Before, the ortho told me, “You can run to save your life, like if a car is about to hit you, but other than that, don’t.” Now I’m looking at signing up for a Monster Run.

It was my ankle injury that got me into the gym, but my back and hip stopped hurting from all those hours typing at my desk. At the very end of a book I give up nearly all gym time, and most everything else that isn’t writing, and my back starts aching again, so exercise is better for all of me, not just my ankle.

I admit that about three years ago I was doing more cardio, eating better, and had attained the weight I wanted, and then I lost my workout partner – a lot of things happened and I started to lose some of my progress. I hadn’t realized how much until my knees started hurting. I went to a different orthopedist, one for knees and found out that if I don’t lean down and take off the weight I’ve gained back, and put the muscle I’ve lost back on, I’m headed for knee replacement with in two to five years, and probably more like two, or I can hit the gym harder. I’m going to hit the gym, thanks.

I haven’t gained that much weight back, but it’s not how much you weigh, it’s how much your body can tolerate. Think of your body as a car, some can pull heavier loads than others without ruining their suspension. Apparently, I’m over my weight limit and need to get some strengthening done to my undercarriage, that would be the muscle I need back. So, Jon and I have started eating better again, but this time we mean to stay with it as a permanent nutrition change, a lifestyle change. He was told that he, too, needs to lean down and muscle up if he doesn’t want to have another knee surgery, and since early heart attacks run in his family that’s another good reason to exercise and eat healthier.

And before you ask, we do not exercise together. It’s one of the few areas where we are not compatible.

So, we exercise to stay healthy and out of the operating room as the patient. I like that I’m a size 8, but it would never have been enough reward on it’s own for me to do all this, but being able to go up a flight of stairs without pain, now that’s a reward. I also find that my mood is lighter, happier, and just all around better when I exercise consistently. That’s not just me, studies have shown that exercise truly is a mood lifter, and a natural antidepressant. It won’t cure serious depression on it’s own, but it helps.

If your body doesn’t need as much exercise as mine does to stay healthy, great for you. It really is a genetic thing how much weight your body can carry and be in good working order. The same goes for how much junk food you can eat without upsetting your system. Everyone is different, so do what makes you feel good, but I’ll add that the older you get the harder it is to stay in shape, especially if you don’t exercise and eat junk food. Our goal is to get Jon at his “fighting” weight before he hits 40, because that is a metabolic milestone that makes everything harder. Whatever weight you want to lose, muscle you want to gain, doing it before you hit another decade is usually a smart idea, because it does get harder from there. I love every decade, life just gets better, but the one thing I have noticed is that its harder to get in shape and stay there, but thanks in part to the fact that I do workout, it’s the only downside to getting older that I’ve found. I believe sincerely that the amount of good, consistent exercise, and healthier eating habits are a large part of why I get mistaken for being ten to twenty years younger than I am. I admit that part is awesome, but I’m also happier, healthier, not in constant pain, and Jon and I can dance for hours again. We danced a lot when we dated, but injuries and lack of exercise had stolen that from us. Hard work in the gym and the kitchen won back what we thought was gone forever and we just recently proved that we can literally dance the night away again. That was a very sweet extra to all this healthy stuff, and more romantic than we could have imagined. Yay, gym workout and eating better, who knew they could be so damned romantic?

Why not take the High Road?

I have been talking about my sister, Chica, and the fact that she is getting married this year to her new partner Majorgirlfriend. Many fans have asked questions about it on FaceBook, and with my sister’s permission I’ll try to answer them. First, yes, Chica and Majorgirlfriend are nicknames. Neither of them is “famous”, so I try to leave my friends and loved ones their anonymity if so requested. It’s also one of the reason that I don’t talk about my daughter, Trinity, very often. I want her to have her own life and privacy and I just can’t decide how much of me sharing will interfere with that, so I choose caution. Second question asked, Chica has been “divorced” from her partner of thirteen years for two years now, so no, she’s not rushing into things with the new person. Third question, yes her ex is/was Meerkatfeinated, who has gone on to another job and a new girlfriend of her own. I hope that Meerkatfeinated is as happy with her new relationship as my sister is with hers, but as our friendship did not survive I do not know for certain. Before someone asks, yes I do miss the friendship when it worked, but I do not miss the parts that did not work between us, and that would eventually make it impossible for the friendship to survive. I believe that Meerkatfeinated would probably say the same of me.
Several people on FaceBook have given me brownie points for taking the high road about the divorce and the break up of the friendship, as if they expect me to be mean about it. I wasn’t mean about my divorce from my own ex-husband over a decade ago, why would I be horrible now, about this? Let me say, that there were negative moments on all sides, and hurt feelings, and anger, we are all human after all, but that doesn’t mean we have to be petty, or cruel. For my own first marriage, my ex and I agreed never to bad mouth each other in front of our daughter, and we haven’t. Trinity didn’t get the divorce, we did, so as much as possible we have tried to make it not her problem. I saw too much of people using the children badly in divorces as I grew up to ever want to inflict that on my own child.
I know there was pain for both my sister and her ex partner. It’s normal and just part of the process. I sincerely wish Meerkatfeinated well in her new life, just as I wished my own ex-husband well. He’s been remarried for over a decade himself now, I think, or close to, and I can only hope he is half as happy as I am.
I guess I can understand being horrible if the ex is abusive, or truly monstrous, but I genuinely have never understood how you can go from loving someone to hating them so quickly. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Hate, or anger, means you still have issues to work.
I believe that the energy you put out into the world is what comes back to you, so if you are bitter about a divorce and wish bad things for your ex, then that’s what you’ll get from the universe. I don’t see the point to that. I would rather try to let go of any ill-feelings and truly move forward to a better and more positive place. I’m not saying it’s easy, or there aren’t moments when old feelings rise, or issues are hit, but if I hadn’t cared for everyone involved it wouldn’t have mattered, and it did matter, so there is pain, but when the choices are right the pain eases and you truly do get better, do better, and find out happiness not only is possible, but there may be more of it out there waiting for you all to find it. It’s just that sometimes you can’t find it together, but separately your dreams, your future, is waiting for both of you.

Joy Requires Effort, or Finding My Wunjo

I wrote this a few days ago, but never got to post it, so here it is,one of my lessons for the year. Enjoy.

I got up just past dawn to write on the new book, Affliction, but I’m only now getting to my desk at 8:07, so what was a doing for the last couple of hours? What was so important that it kept me from my desk and work? Glad you asked.

I had to take the dogs outside before I dared to bring them over to my office, so I grabbed leashes, and found the lower third of two of the leashes wet – one was very wet. I smelled my hand and it wasn’t water. We have three dogs, two males, I knew it wasn’t water, and in fact if it had been it would have been worse, because that would have meant a leak in the ceiling somewhere, that would be worse than Sasquatch our pug having peed on the leashes, really that would be worse, but standing there with dog pee on my hand and two useless leashes I wasn’t thinking that logically. How do I know Sasquatch was our perpetrator of pee? Because for some reason Mordor was still in his crate. When my sister, Chica, left for work she must have put him back in, and let me say his crate will need to be cleaned out later. *sigh* I grabbed extra leashes from the back of the pile and finally managed to take the dogs out. I then cleaned up the pee underneath the leashes on the floor and on the pair of snow boots that have been sitting there for months. Why didn’t the snow boots go somewhere else? I have no idea, they aren’t mine. *deep breath* *let it out slow*

It was a beautiful chilly autumn morning, almost cold enough to see my breath, and there was a flock of birds in one of the tall trees. I think it might have been cedar waxwings, one of my favorite birds, but I didn’t have binoculars so I couldn’t swear to it. Normally, I’d have taken the dogs in and run for the bionocs, but I knew I had to clean the leashes first, so I soaked them in soapy water, applied anti-urine stuff to them in the hopes that the dogs won’t now think they are markers to be remarked forever, then I washed the leashes again, marveling at how our twelve-year-old pug had gotten this high up on the dangling leashes. He’s spry for his age apparently. *grumble* The leashes are now hanging in the downstairs bathroom to dry. By the time I got down the flock of maybe cedar waxwings had vanished, of course.

I was grumbling to myself, “I bet James Patterson doesn’t have to clean up his own dog mess.” I was being childish and a very grumpy bear, so when I got to my office and treated the dogs with their favorite snacky bit, I decided I’d mediate and get back into the headspace to write.

I lit my candles, I knelt on the meditation cushion, but was still too agitated to meditate, so I reached for my runes, the Norse runes. I have several sets made of different types of semiprecious stones. I find often when I can’t still my mind and heart that picking my rune for the day helps me find that inner quiet, that inner strength. Yesterday’s rune was rose quartz and I was going to put it back in the velvet bag and reach for another one, but in picking up the bag I spilled all the runes out in the storage area underneath my altar. I thought, “Really? Really!” Well, yes, really the universe seemed to say, and I proceeded to hunt the spilled runes through all the other paraphernalia underneath my altar.

Rose quartz is a heart stone, and for me it’s always about emotions and heart issues, as I hunted and searched trying to make sure I didn’t lose one of the runes it was not lost upon me that I’d just dumped all my “emotions” and was having to gather them back up. I had to laugh, because I love the Norse pantheon, and Odin especially has a sense of humor, or of the obvious, and this was such a lesson. I said, “Thank you, Odin.” I found a stone I hadn’t worked with in months, but it’s box held one of the pink rune stones, though the stone is black and holds a star within it. Black star diopside, in fact. Most of the stars in my life have come from very dark places, and it also represents the blackness of space full of stars and I need to look outward more and not narrow my vision down quite so much. The mundane things have to be done, like cleaning up after the dogs, but I can’t let the mundane mire me into it, because I’m supposed to be following my star. That was one lesson, but the other was more important. I couldn’t find two of the runes. One Mannaz ended up still being in the bag with two other runes that hadn’t even fallen out, but the one I couldn’t find was Wunjo. I found a whole unopened bag of rose quartz rune stones that I’d forgotten I bought as a gift for someone. I thought I can use the Wunjo from this, but I wanted my Wunjo, my rune.

The meaning of Wunjo is joy. I’d lost my joy, and as I sifted through everything underneath my altar I was determined to find it. The rune turned out to be somewhere I’d already looked, I swear, but it was my altar and like altars is a place of mystery and miracles, so one misplaced stone isn’t that surprising. I found my Wunjo, my joy, but it was upside down, reversed, which means the opposite of it’s normal meaning. I had found my joy, but I wasn’t joyful, and I wasn’t. Spilling the runes had calmed me down, but I was still grumpy and prickling with all the small issues that had delayed me this morning, and they were small problems. It’s funny, no matter how much death and destruction you live through, there will come a morning where the mundane problems make you insane again, and then you have to remember, or be reminded of your joy.

We have had Sasquatch for twelve years. He’s the oldest purebred pug I’ve ever owned, and he’s my third one. The other two died by the age of nine from heart complications, or some other genetic defect. Every day extra with our olden dogger is a blessing.

Our two Japanese chins, Keiko and Mordor, make me laugh and roll around on the floor with them more than any other dogs I’ve ever had.

I get to be in my beautiful office which I helped design. The trees are turning their autumn colors gold, orange, scarlet, as if the world is beginning to smolder. The view is great. There was a time in my life when the kitchen table, or a type writer stand on wheels was all the office and privacy I had to write, and now I have this huge room of my own.

I get to work on the twenty-second Anita Blake novel, Affliction. My first novel, Nightseer, was supposed to be the first of four novels, but my editor at that time rejected the second book, because the first one hadn’t sold enough, as is typical of a first novel. I remember when I got the first contract for the Anita Blake novels, the first one was complete and they’d bought it, but they gave me a contract for three books. I remember thinking, “Well, at least I know there will be three books in the series.” I am writing the twenty-second novel! That is so cool.

I have eight books in the Meredith Gentry series, and yes, there will be a ninth, but Merry and I are negotiating with each other on what that next adventure will be. I was pretty grumpy that my main character wasn’t cooperating to the degree that I had to miss a deadline and wait for her to talk to me again, but to have a fictional character so alive in my head that she argues for her life and her happiness is an amazing gift. I have faith that when Merry and I finish our lover’s quarrel/feud that the book that comes from it will be better than anything I could have come up with on my own without her input.

I’m a writer, all I’ve really wanted to be since I was about fourteen. How many people get to follow their dreams and be successful at it? I mean, that’s pretty cool when you think about it. Sometimes I get caught up in the deadlines and the work, and forget just how amazing that is that I am a #1 New York Times Bestselling Writer, and I have exceeded every goal I ever had a as a writer. How amazing is that?

Two huge crows have come to sit in a tree near my office. One is calling out over and over, I thought there was a hawk, because that’s what the call means. Apparently, there is no hawk, but it is time for me to get back to making pages on Affliction. You think it’s just two crows that happened by, well maybe, but then again, maybe not? There is more magic around us every day than most of us realize, and there is more joy to be had even on the grumpy bear days. I’m off to honor my Wunjo, my joy, because part of what the rune means is that joy in the face of whatever may come. It is going smiling into battle, not because you know you will win, but because you get to go and try yourself against the odds, against the others, the elements, all of it. Go joyous into your day, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s your day – yours- own it, love it, find your joy, just remember sometimes you have to work for it, hunt for it. Joy requires effort to find it sometimes, but it is so worth it.

I’m Back!

A week ago I was in the hospital for my second day. I caught a virus, just a stomach virus. We’ve all caught plenty of them in our lifetime, but I’ve never had one like this before. I spent about two weeks throwing up, and a pretty solid week of being unable to hold anything down, including water. I now understand why they think dehydration killed many of the victims of flue epidemics in the early 1900s, before there was such a thing as intravenous fluids to give the sick, and stop that spiral downward. I was never so happy to be on an IV in my life. I’m feeling much better, though still surprisingly tired with very little effort to show for it. My doctor warned me to increase slowly back to a normal activity level. What he didn’t say was that I’d feel so weak and tire so easily that I would have little choice but to behave myself. But everyday is a bit better, and so am I.
A funny thing happened during this illness, it sort of cleared away a lot of mental debris. Put things into perspective, as it were. I found a quote that says a lot of what I learned, and what I’m still enjoying.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.” – Mary Jean Iron.

You would think I would have learned this lesson by now, but I hadn’t. I thought my mother’s death when I was six had taught me this, but maybe there was too much pain attached to that “lesson”, so that it taught me other things. Some things helped me appreciate what I had and take chances and set goals and DO THINGS! But it didn’t teach me to lay in the dark and listen to my husband’s breathing, and cuddle tight to the smooth, warmth of his body, and be grateful that I wasn’t hurting. They gave me morphine in the hospital for the pain, I’d never had morphine – warm, trickling through my veins, the weirdest feeling, like I could trace it through my body, and then the pain abated for the first time in days. I was able to sleep with enough medicine in me, and that, too, was a wonderful thing. Death didn’t teach me to appreciate sitting in my office and typing this to all of you, but life did. I love the view from my office now more than ever before, I no longer bemoan that it’s not a lake, or an ocean, which is the only thing my dream office lacks. I’m happy with my tall green trees now. I no longer think wistfully of that Dalmatian, or English setter, that I’ll never own because I’m not runner enough to keep them happy, but am thrilled with the silky fur of our two Japanese chins, and the comforting snoring of our pug. I realize that the desire for the Dalmatian that came when I was twelve, after reading Dodie Smith’s book “One Hundred and One Dalmatians,” is really a wish to be a different person than I am. I’ve worked too long and too hard to be who I am to wish for such changes. I go to the gym, but a marathon runner I will never be, and that’s okay. I guess there was still a tiny part of me that wanted to be tall, and blond, and gazelle like, but I am short, dark, and . . . and what? Certainly not gazelle like. *laughs* Zebra like? Something sturdy . . . a horse? Pony? In old vaudeville slang I would certainly be a pony, tall leggy girls were stallions.
When I was a little girl I wanted to be either tall, blonde and leggy, and a natural athlete, or darkly exotic and ethnic anything but my Northern European background. There’s still part of me that wants to be that tall athletic girl that I will never be. I am competent in the gym now, but it’s not natural. I will never put a hand out in a slow, easy arc and catch a ball, and throw it without thought, easy as breathing, but then those girls didn’t read much. They certainly didn’t write. I’m not saying athletes can’t be writers, but I think I would have made a choice, been different, aimed outward, rather than inward, and in the end that’s what a writer is – we aim inward. The real world effects us, Gods know, but it is our processing of that reality inside our heads, our hearts, our very souls, that makes the difference. In the last few years I’ve learned to live in my body in a happier, healthier way than ever before, and make peace with the fact that I have to work a little harder to do what some people take for granted in the gym, but that’s okay, they ask me, “How can you write a whole book?” I ask, “How can you run marathons? How can you lift four hundred pounds?” I guess, we all look at the other half and either wonder about them, or even wonder what we might be like if we were them.
It’s okay to wonder, even day dream about being other people, which is part of my job description, I guess. I put myself in other people’s lives, thoughts, what if . . . what if . . . But today I am grateful for what is, because what is, is pretty damn good. I will endeavor to hold this lesson tight and close and not forget that the ordinary is actually pretty extraordinary.