Confession time.

I have been thinking about writing this since...well last freaking christmas eve...seriously...no reason that I haven't yet...I just haven't.

So that night I found myself sitting alone on the couch watching one of my favorite christmas movies...and well, both Emery and Grant get sick of my christmas movie watching habits by this time of year.  As I remember it, I was watching Scrooged...seriously...one of the best movies out there and as per my usual...I was crying.  I know it's a funny one...but these were not the laugh so hard til you cry tears...they were real weepy tears.  If you know the movie...it's when the little boy speaks at the end.  

Yea, I cry big sloppy tears that I try to hide every time.  

Well being alone..I just let myself cry.  

Then I had this thought...I actually still believe in Santa.

Yup.

That's why I love these movies so much.
 

Now to be transparent, I don't watch just any christmas movie....no hallmark crap for me....

Lots of funny stuff.  But yea...I believe.  I know that for the most part, it is moms that make the magic of the season happen.  And yes....I loved when the kids were little and the fun things we'd leave out...the carrots for the reindeer...the boot prints left in the snow...and my favorite was when Kegan "figured it out," letting him know that Santa is in a way real and it was now part of his job as a big brother to keep that magic going.

So...why though...

There is a christmas movie that isn't really a chirstmas movie...Rise of the Guardians...that I think explains why for me....and yes, I cry at this moment too.

Santa is trying to get Jack Frost to understand that he needs to know himself...his center...to know why he is a guardian...and Santa shows Jack that his is "wonder."  There it is.

I believe in Santa still because I still have wonder...and magic...I fucking love the magic, the wonder, and the love of it all.

So this November as I start watching my list of movies I watch every year...I think I will just let myself cry without hiding any of it.  I think I finally don't give a shit who sees that I still have wonder, magic, and love as my core.

look around....

 These are thoughts that are a little late in being put down into anything that may be comprehensible...

Just as a warning....it's likely to be compete word salad.  Well, I won't use the word "bigly" so you'll be spared THAT level of salad....

Anywhooooo, way back in June, before the Rio Grande games, there was a small group of us gathered on our back porch the evening before the games...and we were chatting about training, training as we age, goals, body image struggles that STILL haunt us as we slide WAY past middle age...and I mentioned something about not being strong...

Sarah, laughed at me...I laughed at myself and we (maybe me) realized that some of this comes from who we see...who we are around.  I was reminded of what my friend Chris said to Grace once after some dude came up to her asking about training or some such thing...and ( forgive me for the murder of the story ) when he left, Chris said something to Grace like why would he ask me....I'm just a normal sized old lady...or NSOL for those in the know.

I am around all these amazingly strong women doing amazingly strong things and I am still in a place that I look at my body's outward expression and judge myself extremely harshly for not looking a certain way...this certain muscly way...and I actively discount my strength. I am also still working on healing some old old shit in regard to disordered eating...and frankly, most of us were trained in the horrid art of comparison...

I often forget that the people I know are about as far from "typical" middle aged women as you can get...and I often fucking forget that I am in my mid 50's....comparing myself to women much younger or even comparing myself to my 40 year old self; which is frankly...useless...

It is great to have these sort of moments to learn from...to have these women in my life....to move forward and take i;  in a deeper way, that yet again, it doesn't matter what anyone else is doing..it is about what I am doing, or since you are reading this..what YOU are doing....right now...not 10 or 20 years ago, but right now. To remind myself that I didn't enjoy exercise at all until, oh, 10-12 years ago.

Remembering too, something a coach told me early early on..."be grateful you can move Mona." 

Given some of my physical issues, I know that at some point I may not be able to do...well...lots down the road.  

So, I'll just bumble along, part of the NSOL club....working on healing my relationship with food, with my body, with injuries, with insecurities; all the while reminding myself I am not anyone else and I am not alone...

 Normal Sized Old Ladies indeed....Love you guys.

 

Crazy Click in my head

 So....I have been feeling really weird lately.  I have let the blog fall off again which is a shame, because I just got to do some cool shit this summer...

Um Norway and Poland....

Anyway.  Back to the click in my head.  As you know I am surrounded by lots of amazing athletes and yeah yeah, I still struggle with that label for myself, but who needs labels anyway.  Ok, back to the point...I was in the gym a while back, doing rack pulls. My coach had me doing them for a few months and I had a funny thing happen as I was working on them.  I kept hearing a voice...(ah ya loud bastard voice) keep saying,

 

V:  yea, whatever they are just rack pulls, not a real lift.

Me: it's still work.

V: yea, whatever, you should lift more.

Me: I am lifting a lot.

V: Yea, whatever, you are only lifting a lot 'cause you are FAT.

 

Ok....why am I doing this to myself...I know some of it is being surrounded by lots of amazing athletes...and the fact that I am seeing lots of people I know again jump back into the lovely world of crazy diet culture that I am still trying to work my way through...Making this clear...MY ISSUE....not anyone else...people feel they need to eat 500 calories a day is not my issue, truly...but because of 50 years of diets and yo yo crap...I see it and still go to the "oh I should do that for a while" thing.

Again, let me make this clear...that is MY PROBLEM...you wanna do 500 calories a day that's is your choice.

Anyway....back to the point....what was the fucking click in my head...back to the rack pulls...

 

After the "voice" says you are only lifting a lot 'cause you are FAT...I finished a set at 420...and I sat on the ground near the bar and a different, quiet voice says,

 

v: yea, you are fat...but Mona, fat doesn't lift this weight....being fat does not erase your strength....being fat isn't the reason you can lift heavy or throw far....please stop telling yourself that.

 

Oh.

 

Training, power, strength, speed.....that's what moves the weights...

 

Yea, I am fat....stop trying to erase me.   (ME)

Thanks for listening to my rambles....my attempt at healing....

Class & Performance and what the heck comes now?

 Well....I have a game this weekend in Oklahoma...and that is dumb.

Mona...why dumb you ask....well, did I think about how much time I could really spend "training" while focusing on an acting class that culminated in a performance. 

No...no I failed to think that shit through.  

Now throw in the fires and the wind and I have not touched an implement in, oh 3 weeks...yea, the back yard is seriously sand and I had no intention to throw in the wind with that shit....nor am I willing to throw in the wind and the smoke either....

I know, there was no way to predict THAT shitty development.....but the acting shit....I should have thought that through.

Oh well, just like for worlds, I am choosing a focus for this game...for worlds it was "focus on form" for this game... it's gonna be.....

"accept where you are"

Probably something I should be doing all the damn time, ammiright?

As for the class and the performances....holy shitzzzz.  What did I learn?

Well, bottom line.  I am an actor.  Really.

I know you are thinking...yea, you keep doing this why wouldn't you be?  But the last few....I don't know how long....I don't feel that way.  I mean, I had not been in a play since 2017....and I cannot get cast with all this remote stuff....NOT AT ALL.  So yea.

But I had a moment in class when Scott and I were working that we wrapped up and I had the thought..."this is what I am supposed to be doing....this is the gift I was given."

Weird to hear that little voice actually be a positive thought..😁  

So why have I always been driven to keep doing the work, yet never thought I was enough in the work...Short list here:

1. In college I was told once, "you might be good enough to get cast in a soap opera as the secondary bitch."  I let that stick to me.

2. Grad school there were many, but the two that I let stick were...I was encouraged to go to the MA program instead of the MFA program because...hmmmm reasons...(they did not believe in me) and the other was in front of the entire MFA program of actors, another actor finished her scene and I was singled out for this little comment, " See Mona, that's it right there, that's what you don't have.  She will be on stage at the Goodman and you would be lucky to sweep the stage at the Goodman."  Holy shizzz WHY DID I STAY?

3. I was with someone for a very long time who would see a show I was in and rank it on a scale on 1-10....no discussion...and I never got more than a 5...and I believed him.  Then as his work shifted in to the "business" I was reminded constantly that I was not "film" worthy.  I let those stick too...

Therapy has been amazing lately.....It really has been.

So, accept where I am...and....keep moving....keep moving forward.

What comes next?  I dunno....perhaps the simple task of working toward my potential....fully reaching toward my potential, both as an artist and an athlete...just trust and work to see what comes, to see what I can do and what I can give.

Binge shows

 So, I love my British competition binge shows.  You know, the Great British Baking show and now the great Pottery show or whatever it is called.  

A while back on Netflix, we started watching a non competition show...British and bingey yes, but not a competition.

 If you haven't seen it, it is a "shop" with all sorts of people with super specialized skills.

I have learned some cool things and I really love watching all these folks working on all these broken and worn out treasures.  There is a clock specialist, stuffed animal specialists, ceramics, a woman who restores paintings....all kinds of things.

The Repair Shop

 

There are some amazing things that are brought into this place. If you haven't watched and like any sort of arty crafty shit...I highly recommend it.

The last time we watched an episode, there was a cool gravity clock they they were fixing. At the end of the episode the owner comes in and brings his granddaughter with him.  The clock will be hers when he is gone.  She is all of maybe 10 or 11 years old and just has this super clear understanding of why it is so important, why it isn't a throw away.  There was also a belt that a young man brought in that I think had been a great grandparent's whom he had never met. Again...the care and concern for the history, for the why was forefront in this young man's mind.

Now, I get it, it isn't lost on me that these folks come from places of privilege...Their families HAD things to pass on...they have the money to both keep them and have them fixed. That being said, I found myself extraordinarily sad after the last episode I watched.  Being a second generation immigrant who had a grandmother who literally would be called an "illegal" by today's standards (she was rejected for unknown to me reasons and snuck into the country)...I have nothing of anyone's to hand down. I also realize that is happening right now for families all over the world as well, but it just so happened to hit me while watching this show.  I have nothing to pass down or share with the kids...throw in the fact that I never met any of my grandparents and yea...I felt sad and yes, I probably teared up.  I don't even really have stories because these were the days of when you asked where we were "from" we got a lecture about how it "doesn't matter."  It also meant that the one great auntie who was known for her fantastic pirogi...well she chose to take that shit to the grave.

What's my point here....I have no idea.  I guess I just wanted to share.